


Catalyst

by End_Transmission



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Bad Parenting, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Gore, Narcissism, On Hiatus, Rated For Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End_Transmission/pseuds/End_Transmission
Summary: Michael Afton has never been a twinkle in his father's eye. Despite his attempts from a young age to be the poise, proper young man his father expects, it seems he's always missed the mark. So it's a surprise, albeit a welcome one, when his father offers him a job at the real golden child of the family - Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Unfortunately, Mike doesn't see the rabbit hole for what it is - and he'll be too far down it long before he realizes he even fell. *ON HIATUS*
Relationships: Elizabeth Afton & Michael Afton, Michael Afton & Animatronics, Michael Afton & Original Character(s), Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller
Comments: 71
Kudos: 207





	1. Family Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome!
> 
> If you have followed me for my previous 'Family's What You Make It' series, please be aware that this is an entirely new/different story with no connections to that series whatsoever! There will definitely be similar or even identical themes or ideas (in fact, the opening will likely feel very familiar), but this is meant to be its own thing.
> 
> If you're brand new to me, hello and welcome!
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy! Please mind the tags - this story is not all doom and gloom by any means, there will be plenty of normal scenes and fluff, but when there is doom and gloom, the tags will be important. :)

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria was bustling with noise and activity - courtesy of the packs of children running about, their chattering parents, and the music pouring off of the stage. Eighteen year old Michael Afton stood just inside of the doors with his hands clenched tightly behind his back. It wouldn't do to let anyone see the way he was wringing them together, or the small trembles in his fingers. He was supposed to be professional and well put together. Mike needed this job, and the owner would not tolerate his nervousness for long. He never had, after all - even when Mike was a child, he'd been expected to be poise and polite. 

It was all about the family image. 

"Good morning, Michael," a voice spoke nearby, already testing Mike - trying to make him jump. Mike had long since learned to never jump, however, not even when his father appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Straightening a bit instead, Mike turned slightly to face the newcomer. 

William Afton held an intimidating presence, even to - maybe especially to - his children. It seemed extra true to Mike, who had never been very good at staying in his father's good graces. He'd never been the favored child, but it'd only gotten worse since his younger brother's death. Granted, that _had_ been largely Mike's fault, and he often thought that maybe he ought to consider himself lucky that his father still bothered to talk to him at all.

That, despite his general disregard and distaste for his son, William had even been willing to extend an employment offer to his eldest. A daytime security position, even, when there were plenty of other, far worse jobs he could have handed over. 

"Good morning," Mike responded, doing his best to hold himself still as his father walked over and promptly clasped his shoulder in a tight grip. Without saying anything, William's eyes roamed up and down his son - searching, no doubt, for any signs of wrinkles or messiness. Mike held his breath, waiting for the almost inevitable scorn. To his surprise, though, William nodded, let go, and gave his son a small slap on the back. 

"I'm impressed you've managed to present yourself this well," William said, "see that you keep it up. You will be in the public eye, after all." He paused and hummed, then turned and gestured for Mike to follow. "Come along, I'll show you around."

Mike had never really worshipped his father, and the older he got the more disenfranchised he got with the man and his constant orders. But all the same, no matter how his mind fumed, Mike simply nodded and did as told. 

There wasn't a ton for William to show him. They went over the stages, the rooms - including the security room that was really only for the night guard - and, of course, the animatronics. Mike didn't have any feelings one way or another about those - the brightly colored, plastic-shelled animatronics were so different from the golden ones he'd grown up with. That was a plus for the new guys, in Mike's book. He didn't think he'd have been able to work there, if Fredbear had still been around. 

When the small tour was over, William pulled Mike aside to go over his actual duties. 

"When you first arrive, you'll let the Night Guard know. The current one's name is Sam Hill - you'll have to introduce yourself, as he doesn't arrive until nearly midnight. Once you've let him know he can head home, you'll make sure that the restaurant is up to standards. Make sure the animatronics are where they ought to be, the tables are neat, and just generally that things are tidy and where they belong. Once we open, your responsibilities will be to keep watch. You'll help keep things clean, as necessary, but your primary job will be to make sure the patrons follow the rules. You're to interfere if they aren't." William paused and looked to his son. "You'll also need to be sure that the animatronics behave themselves."

"Behave?" Mike asked, bewildered that his father would actually make a joke. When the mad simply nodded, though, with no change in his eyes, Mike pressed, "is that actually a concern?" 

"Ideally, no," Was the only vague answer his father would give him. Mike still couldn't be sure if the man was joking or not. It wasn't like him, but the duty seemed so nonsensical. "Any other questions?" 

Mike could drum up a few, if he tried hard enough. He really wanted to know more about the possibility of misbehaving animatronics, for example. Still, he knew the bored tone in his father's voice very well. William was out of patience, and the best thing for Mike would be to let the conversation come to an end. 

"No sir," Mike answered. 

"Good. Don't make me regret this, Michael." And without so much as a goodbye or any further explanation, William walked away. Mike watched him go, decided that was as much dismissal as he would get, then moved on to start his first, awkward shift. 

* * *

Mike's first opinion of Sam Hill, the midnight security guard, was that he looked tired. It wasn't the sort of average, expected exhaustion of someone just off a late shift - Sam's gray eyes were dark and flighty, and the shadows beneath them almost looked like bruises. Sam walked slowly from the office in the back of the building, and when he spotted Mike, he paused in place and studied him. 

"Good morning," Mike greeted as he approached, "You must be Sam, it's nice to meet you. I'm -" 

"The Afton kid, I know," Sam interrupted, "Yeah, I'm Sam. Good to meet you too, I guess. Look, it's been a long night so, I'm off. Everyone's back to their places, already checked on the old beasts. No messes to clean up, things should be up to standard. If it ain't, I suppose you'll tell your Pop, and I'll end up with another pay cut -"

"I'm not a snitch," Mike interrupted, his irritation coming out as a bite in his voice, "and I'm not my dad's lackey. I'm sure things are fine, but if not, I'll fix them. He doesn't have to know." Sam paused, and looked surprised to have been interrupted. He eyed Mike, the look not unlike the one William had given his son. Unlike with his father, though, Mike scowled - and with a raised eyebrow, Sam looked to Mike's face again. 

"Not his lackey, huh?" Sam asked, letting out a brief and bitter laugh, "does _he_ know that, kid?" 

"I -" Mike caught himself, realizing with a sudden swell of heat in his cheeks that Sam wasn't wrong. To Mike's surprise, though, the other guard suddenly seemed to relax, and even gave Mike a genuine, if cheeky, grin. 

"Ah, well, it's a start anyway," he said, "don't worry about it. My da' wasn't a shiner either. You're young yet, you'll learn. Look, I'm sorry for being snippy, it's been a long night. You seem alright, I just ain't got the energy to stay and chat. But, you know, have a good shift - hey, it just Michael, or what?" 

"I prefer Mike."

"Mike then. See you next shift."

* * *

Sam hadn't been lying or exaggerating - the restaurant was in pristine condition. The chairs and tables were neat and decorated, the animatronics were happily on their stages, and all doors that needed to be shut were shut. So for something like two hours, there wasn't really anything that Mike had to do. He'd begin his normal duties - watching, scolding, cleaning - once the doors opened. 

So, Mike did what he hadn't been able to while his father was around - he explored. There weren't a lot of places he hadn't been introduced to - he knew of the security office and of the prize counter and its strange animatronic. He hadn't known of the strange, boarded off room, but he knew better than to poke around that too much. It was likely boarded up for a reason. Mike even knew of the parts and services rooms - although, he found something there he hadn't expected. 

He wasn't sure how he'd missed the animatronic the first time - maybe because he wasn't visible right from the doorway. But Mike still hadn't gone all that far into the area when his flashlight caught the eyes of a toppled animatronic, and made them shine. It took Mike a minute to remember the bear's name - Freddy, of course. Just like the shiny version up front. But the one here, who was lying on the ground with his head twisted oddly to the side, was not nearly as inviting as his Toy sibling. This one had certainly seen better days - his fur was dirty, his jaw seemed stretched beyond the normal capacity, and it wasn't exactly normal for animatronics to be laid out like he was. Over all, Freddy looked as if he didn't belong. He looked rough and badly treated and _mean._

He looked as if he might climb to his feet any second and munch on the poor sod who'd wandered across him. 

Thoroughly spooked out of his desire to explore, Mike turned away from Parts and Services, and made his way back to the main room. Only to find, once there, that he hadn't wasted much time at all. Almost six thirty - another hour and a half to go. Less, maybe, if his father arrived early. Shaking off his nerves, Mike hummed to himself and turned in place, giving the main room another look. 

His eyes quickly drifted over the stage, at first, but when he realized there'd been something out of place, he looked at the animatronics again. They looked normal and settled, but there was something dark on Toy Bonnie's arm. Mike made his way over to the stage and peered up at the rabbit - he fully intended to climb up and get a closer look, but the sudden racing in his chest caught him off guard. It wasn't the rabbit, but it was the scenario - it was the memory of staring up at an animatronic as he watched it crush his brother's head. It was the years and years of warnings from his father - always told to stay away from the animatronics and it's not safe to be near them and _you see, Michael? You see what happens when you ignore what I tell you?_

Swallowing hard, Mike forced his eyes away from the rabbit's face and to his arm. The dark spot he'd seen was, in fact, dried pizza sauce - probably the result of some kid breaking the all important 'Do not touch' rule. This had multiple implications, none of which Mike felt good about. Firstly, that some kid had snuck by his own watchful gaze the day before, which William wouldn't appreciate. Secondly, that another employee had failed to appropriately clean Toy Bonnie, which William also would not like. The best answer for everyone, then, would be for Mike to clean it now, so William would never see it. 

Breaking another rule in the process but, at least, out of sight. There would be no reason for William to even know - unless Mike ended up like his brother, but, well, then he wouldn't be alive to suffer the repercussions anyway. Besides, he had to do this for himself, too - who knew when his father might request him to clean or adjust an animatronic? Because it was fine to do it if William wanted it done, obviously. Mike wouldn't be allowed to freeze up then - doing so in public could be disastrous. So, it was best to push past the fear now, where no one could see him tremble. With a bracing breath, Mike went to find a cloth and some water. Everything would be just fine, if he could push past this. 

Once the items had been procured, Mike made his way back to the stage and, quickly so as not to lose his nerve, climbed on to it. Once there, he froze, waited - but none of the animatronics so much as twitched. They stayed still and quiet, as if they didn't even know the man was there. 

Because they didn't, Mike reminded himself firmly, they were animatronics. They weren't alive, or cruel, or vengeful. Fredbear had been a horrible malfunction, just an accident. These three would not so much as turn on until it was time for their first show. Taking another heavy breath, Mike dipped the cloth in water, lifted it up, and began to scrub at the stain on Toy Bonnie's arm. 

"Gotta be annoying, huh?" He asked out loud a moment later, glancing quickly to the rabbit, who remained still. "Having some sticky finger kid get gunk on you, and not being able to get it off yourself." Mike wasn't sure why he was rambling to the animatronic, but it helped loosen the knot in his chest. "Don't worry though, I've got you. And I'll try to be better. You know, keep them from touching you at all. This stuff is really on here, huh?" He stuck his tongue out slightly and scrubbed a little harder - finally seeing some results as the sauce began to flake off. Not long after, it was gone, and Toy Bonnie's arm was bright and shiny again. "There," Mike said, plopping the rag down into the bucket of water, "just like it never happened. So, let's keep this our little secret, okay Bon?" Of course, the rabbit still didn't respond - but Mike patted his arm anyway. 

Task finished, Mike slipped from the stage, grabbed the bucket, and took a few steps away. As he turned to look at the stage again, he noted that his hands were still shaky and his nerves still felt strained. But, hey, he didn't feel quite as bad as he had when he started. Maybe that was the key - maybe, Mike decided, he would clean the animatronics a little more often. Perform a little exposure therapy on himself, while he had the time to spare. 

"What do you think, Bon? Wanna do this again sometime?" Mike asked, not at all surprised when the rabbit said nothing back. 

Mike might have been more surprised, though, had he not turned away just in time to miss the way the rabbit's eyes shifted in their sockets, and looked his way. By the time Mike would so much as look at the rabbit again, Toy Bonnie would be staring straight ahead once more, as if it hadn't happened at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick once a story plug! I have a Tumblr, I post updates pretty much as soon as they go up for any fics. I also post a lot of memes and random shit. It can be found at: http://pyroweasel.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope to see you again soon!
> 
> End_Transmission


	2. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As to be expected, there's a little more to Mike's job than meets the eye. Still, there are bright days, all the same.

"Michael, come with me. I need your assistance with something." 

Mike had only two days of work under his belt before his father pulled him aside in order to give him an unusual task. In Mike's mind, that was probably a record - he'd been almost surprised that his father hadn't mentioned "and anything else I tell you to do," as one of Mike's primary job duties. Then again, they both probably understood that it was one command that didn't need to be said out loud. 

Mike turned to look at his father as soon as he was called, not surprised to find the man close. As soon as he had Mike's attention, William turned and walked away without another word. Mike, of course, followed immediately. Together, they headed deeper into the pizzeria, in the general direction of the security office - although they detoured down another, smaller hallway before they got there. They came up to a doorway - or what Mike assumed was a doorway. It was difficult to tell for sure, given it was nailed up with boards. Mike couldn't help the side-eye he gave William when the man walked right up to it. 

"This room is a 'need-to-know' secret," William said, glancing over his shoulder at Mike, "as you'll see in a moment, we don't want anyone in here who has no reason to be, and it's best if they simply don't know about it. Do you understand what I'm saying?" 

"Don't tell anyone, yes, I understand," Mike responded. William nodded, satisfied, then looked to the door again. He reached out and, with deft and quick movements, unlatched a panel. A hidden door, made from the same boards as the rest, swung out. William gestured, and they walked inside. Mike didn't need to be told to shut the door behind them. 

For a second, it was pitch black, and then William clicked a flashlight on. The room it illuminated was old and dusty, every flicker of the light caught a new cobweb. But the path in front of them was clear, as if often walked, and that was the path they took. Mike almost wanted to take out his own light and look around - but instead, he stared straight at William's back and followed as close as he dared. A part of him wanted to explore - but another, trembling part of him was terrified of what he might find in the darkness. 

Especially when they found William's goal. Mike's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the rabbit animatronic - the last time he'd seen it, it'd been standing on stage, singing without a care in the world as its bear counterpart gnarled the head of Matthew - the youngest Afton son - in its jaws. Mike was surprised to see just how intact Spring Bonnie looked - though it made more sense only a moment later. William held the flashlight to Mike without a word, and the younger man took it without prompting. He did his best to hold it steady, trying desperately not to think of who else might be stored in the room, as William dug into a pocket and pulled out a small hand crank. 

"You still wear that thing?" Mike blurted out in sudden recognition. He winced slightly at the annoyed look William threw him at the thoughtless question. 

"Of course I do. Spring Bonnie is a favored and beloved character. There's no reason to deny our patrons his presence, even if he cannot perform alone any longer," William said, "it's easiest to dress when I have assistance though, which is where you come in. For the moment, just keep the light steady."

Mike nodded and did as he was told. He watched while his father went to the animatronic, removed its head, and used the crank to open the body. At the sight of the wires pushed back, held in place by spring locks almost as old as Mike, Mike felt his stomach roll. 

"Wait, this can't be safe," he said quickly. He plowed on as William paused and looked at him with more annoyance than usual. "Look at those things! If a jaw can go bad, what happens if the whole body goes -" 

"I'm perfectly capable of working my own creation, Michael," William snapped, "but if you continue to draw away my attention, it may very well go off. Are you trying to get yet another family member killed?" Mike couldn't help but flinch violently, that time. Chastised, he shook his head and looked away. 

"No sir," he answered. He didn't see it, but he knew his father would give a curt, satisfied nod. The older man returned to his current activity. It wasn't until he was safely tucked inside of the suit, with only his head visible, that he spoke again. 

"Come over here, carefully remove the crank, and do up the latches on the back of the suit," William commanded, "then put the head on. Slow and steady movements, Michael. And if I tell you to stop, do so immediately. Understood?" 

"Understood," Mike agreed. He made his way over and followed the given steps. There was a slight tremble in his hands, so he moved extra slowly to make up for it. He barely breathed at all, not until the head was securely latched and he was able to step back from the hybrid. 

"Good," William said. Then, he began to stretch, and every movement made Mike's heart race faster. He wanted to implore his father to be more careful - but doing so would only draw fresh ire. So Mike bit his cheek, and waited while William went through his motions. The suit stayed steady the entire time, apparently unbothered by the movements of the human inside. 

"There," William said, after a moment or two of stretching. "That's it, let's go." Nodding, Mike turned away from his father and began to walk back the way they'd come. His father's footsteps slapped the ground behind him, different now in the much larger feet of Spring Bonnie. They walked in the same silence they'd entered in, only with Mike in the lead this time. As they approached the door, the flashlight glinted off of something nearby. Without thinking, Mike turned his light in its direction, and immediately wished he hadn't. 

Sitting against the far wall was another golden animatronic. Unlike Spring Bonnie, Fredbear had clearly seen better days - it obviously hadn't been touched since the incident that was responsible for the large, dark stain all along its front. Dust had settled over its fur, severely muting the once bright gold. Its jaw hung open, the metal was twisted - and Mike could just imagine the trouble they'd gone through to pry the head from its mouth. Dull, empty eyes stared forward, and to Mike, they might as well have been staring right into his soul. 

Forgetting entirely that he was not alone, and with the reality of what he was seeing crashing into him, Mike let out a sudden gasp and let the flashlight fall from his hand. It clattered to the ground as Mike tried to take a step back - only to feel a massive hand stop him. His mind immediately flashed to the worst, and he tried to run - but where there was one hand there was suddenly two. They held him in place, even as he thrashed and tried to escape - 

"Calm yourself," William snapped. The sound of his father's voice brought Mike so harshly back to reality that he froze, breathing so hard it hurt. It was Spring Bonnie holding him in place - it was his father. Not a deranged animatronic, not Fredbear - just William in a costume, probably now thinking of all the ways he could, and probably should, have his eldest son committed. 

"Why is he _here?_ " Mike asked, unconsciously leaning back more heavily into his father's hands, "why didn't you get rid of him?" 

"Do you have any idea the cost of that bear?" William asked, moving suddenly away and making no note of the way his son stumbled to catch himself, "he may not be in use but we may yet have need for his parts. Did you really think we'd just scrap him?" 

"You should have! He's -" Mike turned, and as he did, suddenly remembered just where he was and who he was with. His words trailed off under his father's cold stare. "I - Sorry. I'm sorry. I was just surprised." 

"Are you finished?" William asked, "or should I leave you in here for a while, so you can compose yourself?" 

Mike forced the shake of his head to be slow and controlled, no matter the cold shiver that'd passed through him. He crouched down, picked up the flashlight, and squared his shoulders. He didn't even dare to so much as take the deep breath he felt in dire need of. Composed, he told himself, he had to be composed. 

Else William may just make good on his threat. 

"No sir, I'm finished. I'm sorry." William didn't respond to the apology, just nodded once, then gestured with a paw. 

"Go," He said, and Mike nodded. He turned back for the door, and finished leading the way out of the room. William waited to be sure Mike closed the door appropriately, then retook the lead, heading back for the main room. Almost immediately, he was swarmed with kids, and became the fun-loving rabbit that all the children adored. 

Mike, meanwhile, tried to return to his responsibilities. What he'd seen, and the memories attached to it, dogged his steps for the rest of his shift. He didn't dare show the weakness - he couldn't give in to the urge to curl up somewhere and cry. He was too afraid William was watching, would make good on the threat and drag Mike back to the room and lock him in, leaving him alone with the phantom of Mike's worst nightmares. 

It wasn't until he was finally home later that night that Mike could let the feelings overtake him. In the comfort of his own apartment, he clung tight to the softest blanket he could find, and sobbed. 

* * *

Mike found that, as the days passed, his job was more stressful than he expected. It wasn't really his responsibilities that wore on him - the actual job was not, in theory, that difficult. Kids were kids, but over all they were well behaved and, if not, their parents usually got to them before Mike could. Sometimes parents got entitled, or angry, but that was more William's problem than Mike's. 

Unfortunately, William was _Mike's_ problem. Despite the fact that they were boss and employee - not to mention father and son - the two didn't speak often. But Mike could feel his father's eyes on him more often than not, and he knew that William wouldn't miss a chance to swoop in and cut his eldest to the bone. He certainly didn't miss any opportunity to drag Mike with him to the safe room, under the guise of helping him don Spring Bonnie. And maybe that really was most of the point - but William had also found a weakness, and so there was the added bonus of tormenting Mike by bringing him so close to Fredbear. And despite all of that, Mike had to behave, he had to perform, he had to make sure he represented the pizzeria and his family to William's standards. 

It was exhausting. 

But, it was also a job, and the first paycheck lifted the weight of the world off Mike's shoulders. No, it wasn't much, but it was far better than nothing. It meant Mike could continue to pay rent, which in turn meant Mike could avoid groveling his way back home for a little longer. That was worth having to deal with his father for a measly eight to ten hours a day. Far better that than living once more under the man's roof. 

One afternoon, Mike was crouched by a Cyclone machine in dire need of repair, when a weight suddenly slammed into his back and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck. With an oof, he threw a hand down to catch himself - struggling for just a second to prevent himself from falling over. Once he was stable, he reached up and grabbed the small hands around his neck so that he could hold onto them as he stood. Otherwise, the little girl might have tumbled to the ground. Or strangled him. 

"Hey Squirt," Mike said as he stood and looked over his shoulder. His little sister Elizabeth, who's hair was pulled into her usual messy pigtails and who was clinging to Mike like a spider monkey, beamed at him. 

"Hi Mike!" She chirped, "Uncle Henry brought us to play!" 

"He did, huh?" Mike asked, turning in place - quickly, and he grinned as Elizabeth giggled at the sensation. Sure enough, Henry Emily stood across the room, already chatting with William. Mike had known Henry for all of his life, as the man was William's long time friend and former business partner. Though Henry had parted from the company shortly after the Fredbear incident, he still visited often - and was, in fact, William's preferred babysitter for Elizabeth, as the seven year old wasn't quite old enough to watch herself, yet. 

Standing close to Mike, patiently waiting for him to notice her, was Henry's daughter, Charlie. The little girl wasn't quite a full year younger than Elizabeth, but was definitely the calming half to her best friend's excitement. Her own black hair was done up in a fancy braid - and given how smooth it was, Mike had to assume it was Henry's doing. Though she loved to play with her friend's hair, Elizabeth's work was never quite so neat. 

"You got a good hold, Lizzy?" Mike asked. His sister clutched on tighter, and he choked slightly as her hands clasped in front of his neck once more. Taking that as her answer, he carefully let go of her hands - noting that she _did_ have a good hold - and he looked to Charlie. 

"Hey Charlie," He said, signing as he spoke. Although the little girl could hear, she didn't speak - and Henry preferred that those who could signed when they spoke to her, to help her develop her own language skills. At Mike's attention, Charlie beamed and returned his greeting. 

Mike felt Elizabeth shift, and he reached back quickly to hold her, just in time as she let go in order to say something to Charlie. Charlie looked up at the girl, then scowled slightly. 

_"You ask him,"_ Charlie replied, at which Mike lifted an eyebrow. 

"Ask me what?" He asked, and he couldn't help but chuckle when Charlie's eyes went wide. She quickly shook her head, and Mike heard Elizabeth scoff. Then, she leaned closer to his ear and whispered conspiratorially. 

"Will you help us win tickets?" She asked. 

"I've gotta work, Lizzy," Mike replied with a laugh. At that, he carefully shifted Elizabeth until she was safely back on the ground. Almost immediately, she ran over to Charlie, and both girls looked at Mike with extra-wide, puppy-dog eyes. "I've got to work," Mike repeated, shaking his head - still smiling, because how could he not? He glanced up, noted that Henry and William were in deep conversation, then reached to his belt and popped out a handful of coins for each girl. 

"Take these," He told them, "I can't play with you, but I'll make sure you can play a lot. Just don't tell dad, okay?" 

"Promise!" Elizabeth said immediately, taking the offered coins. For them, it was almost a sacred vow - in the Afton household, 'don't tell dad' was not just a playful suggestion. Charlie took her share of coins as well, signed something quick, then took off. Elizabeth followed after her immediately. 

"Don't run!" Mike admonished, laughing when he saw both of them slow to something more like a quick walk. He was sure they'd break into a sprint again the second he wasn't looking but, hey, plausible deniability had gotten Mike this far. 

A customer caught his attention, and Mike lost himself in his duties for a while. He did his best to keep an eye out for both Elizabeth and Charlie, but he needn't have worried. They busied themselves with their mission for tickets - going so far as to ask their fathers for more tokens when they ran out. Mike had watched, then - had seen how William had shaken his head, but Henry had admonished him and given in, handing both girls more tokens. 

Mike hoped his father wouldn't harass Elizabeth about it, later. 

Henry and the girls stuck around until well after closing. Elizabeth and Charlie were thrilled, happy for the chance to play around the restaurant all by themselves. Mike was glad for it too - while Henry and William went off to talk more, he was finally free to spend some quality time with his sister and Charlie. He followed them around, helped them win higher scores in a few games, and enjoyed a real moment of peace. 

He was helping Charlie with a round of Skeeball when he happened to look up, just in time to see Elizabeth climbing up onto the main stage. 

"Liz!" Mike hissed, all but running over and snatching her up in order to pull her away. She yelped slightly at his grab, and wiggled indignity. As soon as they were away from the stage, Mike put her down, but left his hands firmly on her shoulders. "Elizabeth!" He exclaimed again, "what on earth were you thinking? You know you're not supposed to be up there!" 

"Ow!" Elizabeth said in return, "that hurts!" 

With a hard breath, Mike loosened his hold on her. Had he really been clutching her that hard? He looked into her eyes - and felt relieved when he saw she didn't seem afraid or sad, just angry. So, he let his own anger flood back in. 

"You know the stages are off-limits!" He hissed at her, "what if dad had seen you doing that? You know better!" 

"I just wanted the ribbon! I was gonna get right down," she argued. 

"The ribbon?" Mike parroted in confusion. He looked at the stage, and spotted it - a powder blue, untied ribbon, currently sitting at the edge of Toy Bonnie's foot. Mike scoffed and looked back to his sister. "That's not even yours," he told her, "stay off the stage, Lizzy. Understand?" 

"Fine," She pouted in return, but Mike would take it. 

"Everything alright out here?" 

Both siblings looked over quickly, and Mike mentally groaned when he saw his father and Henry standing near the hall. William's eyes went from Mike, to Elizabeth, to the stage, and back to Mike - where they promptly narrowed. At the implication, Mike felt nauseated. He let go of Elizabeth and, in lieu of stepping away from her, turned to face the older men. It was hard to hold himself steady, when he really wanted to cry. 

Did his father really think that little of him? 

He felt Elizabeth clutch onto his hand, and in that small action he felt some measure of relief. They may have just been fighting, but in the face of this, she was his stalwart companion. 

"I was just showing Mikey the ribbon, daddy!" She exclaimed, pointing with her free hand. "See?" At that, both of the older men frowned and walked over. William paused a short distance away, while Henry stretched over the stage to pick the ribbon up. 

"Weird place to lose something, huh?" Henry asked as he straightened back up and looked the ribbon over. "You think someone got on stage?" 

"I'm not sure. _Did_ anyone get on stage, Michael?" 

"No," Mike said, shaking his head, "pretty good day, actually - no one even hung off the rope."

"Ah, well, Bonnie here likely picked it up while he was walking around," Henry said. William nodded his agreement, reached out, and slipped the ribbon from Henry's fingers. 

"Almost certainly. I'll put it in the lost and found, we can only hope its owner returns for it."

"Good eye, Elizabeth," Henry said, giving the little girl a fond smile. She beamed at him in return. "Now, you be good for your father, okay? I think Charlotte and I will head home now - but I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

"Aw, do you have to go? Charlie and I were gonna use our tickets!" Elizabeth all but whined, and Mike squeezed her hand a bit harder in warning. 

"Don't pout, Elizabeth," William reprimanded, but Henry just laughed in good humor. 

"You can always turn them in tomorrow," Henry told her, "and you'll have time to get some more, even."

"Okay," Elizabeth said, her tone long-suffering but cheerful. Henry ruffled her hair as he passed, said his goodbyes, collected Charlie, and headed out - leaving the remains of the Afton family behind. The atmosphere grew heavy almost immediately, and Mike glanced down at Elizabeth. Now that the moment had passed, Mike could see that she really was sad to see Henry and Charlie leave. 

More than what was probably normal. 

"She can stay with me tonight, if you want," Mike offered, looking to his father, "I don't mind dropping her off at Henry's in the morning." He knew the answer before William spoke - Mike could see it in the older man's eyes. 

"That's not necessary. Besides, it's nearing her bedtime, and I need you to stay and clean up the mess these two made."

"Alright," Mike agreed, knowing there would be no use in arguing. He looked at Elizabeth, then smiled at her worried frown. "Sounds like you'll be back tomorrow, so I'll see you then, okay?" 

"Okay," Elizabeth agreed, letting go of his hand in order to latch onto William's instead, as he walked pointedly past her. Mike's father slipped him the ribbon as he went, and Mike understood the silent order - he'd be the one to put the item in the lost and found. As his family walked away, Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and lifted her free hand to wave. "Bye, Mikey!" She called. 

"Bye Lizzy," Mike responded, giving her a wave in return. He watched as they left, and watched still for a little longer. Although he couldn't imagine a world where he had so shiny of a spine, he still cursed himself for not doing more. His father wouldn't hurt his sister, of course - at least, never physically. But his cold words could wound just as much. And Elizabeth was still so young. She didn't have the beaten hide Mike had - and her reactions often served to fuel William's ire. 

She'd learn, in time. She was already learning. One day, she'd understand how best to deal with their father, just like Mike did. He just wished she didn't have to learn it at all. 

"Sorry squirt," Mike muttered, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead. Then, with another heavy sigh, he moved on to clean, just like he'd been told. There wasn't a lot of damage from the two kids, but there was enough to be getting on with. It wasn't long before Mike found himself chatting out loud, once again talking to the silent animatronic crowd. 

At least he could say whatever he wanted, to them. 


	3. Tampering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of tampering going on at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Death, Blood, and Gore

At first, Sam and Mike had been weary of each other. Sam, because of Mike's connection to William - Mike, because Sam was an older adult, and had his _own_ connection to William that Mike didn't know the depth of. But briefly exchanged words turned into longer conversations and, two weeks or so in, morphed into a shaky truce. Neither would have said they trusted the other entirely, but their conversations were friendly and they liked each other, at least on a surface level. Mike thought he might enjoy Sam's company more than vice versa, but he didn't get the feeling Sam disliked him either. 

So it was a surprise when, one day, Mike greeted Sam as usual, and got a quick, flat "Hey," in response. Mike paused and did a double take, watching as Sam walked for the door. 

"How was your shift?" Mike asked, and although Sam did pause, he still didn't look over at Mike. 

"It was fine," Sam answered, "see you later." Before Mike could figure out what to say to probe, Sam had walked out, the door shutting carelessly behind him. 

"What crawled up his ass?" Mike asked out loud to the room and its animatronics. He looked over at the door for a long minute, feeling something resting painfully in the pit of his stomach. He thought it over, tried to decide what he'd said wrong in their past conversations - what he must have said to make Sam dislike him. He couldn't come up with anything specifically, but there had to be something. Why else would the man be so suddenly cold, when they'd had a decent repertoire going? 

Or maybe, Mike thought with a thrill of despair, William had said something to Sam. 

Mike tried to disbar the thoughts and focus on his job, tried to distract himself by spending some more time polishing the Toys. But no matter what he did, he couldn't shake the strange conversation or its hold over him. He bounced between trying to think of how to apologize for his unknown faux pas, and being angry at Sam's sudden turn. He only hoped he'd let it go once the restaurant opened for the day. 

The next day, after their morning interaction played out in a similar manner, Mike went looking for answers. He wasn't sure why he was so tempted, what even made him think there might be answers to find, but his search took him to the back office. The little office was unimpressive and bland, and most of the desk drawers were filled with crumpled paper and wrappers. 

Beneath some of those wrappers, though, was a small stack of files. Curious, Mike sat in the chair and pulled the stack out. He flipped through it, immediately concerned and confused - the papers were all about William. A copy of his employee file, a few articles about Fredbear's and Fazbear's, a few scribbled notes about his daily doings at the restaurant. Mike had no idea why Sam - or anyone, if not him - had gathered the information together. He had no idea why the papers were stashed in the desk. But he had a sick feeling, anyway, coming back to that first question over and over. _Why?_

Mike hovered the papers over the drawer, years of conditioning warring with self preservation. If he were a good son, he would take the papers and bring them to William's attention. Doing so might not draw any real praise, but it would protect him when William inevitably found the papers anyway. On the other hand, it would be easier to just tuck them away and pretend he'd never seen them. That way when William _did_ inevitably find them, Mike could be completely unconnected to the event. 

Not to mention, if by any possibility William never _did_ find the stack, then Sam would be protected too. Whether he'd gathered these papers or not, he'd be the first on William's shit list. 

With shaky hands, Mike tucked the papers back into the desk, scattered wrappers over top of them, and all but hurried from the office. Facing his father was more strenuous than usual, that day. Mike wasn't new to trying to play dumb in William's view, but it was still a delicate and stressful game to play. When the day passed without William saying a thing, however, Mike knew that he'd managed it. 

Or, at least, his father let him think he had. In Mike's book, the difference between the two was negligible. 

* * *

"What's with those papers in your desk?" Mike asked a few mornings later, stopping Sam dead in his hurried steps for the door. The other man turned, and the look he gave Mike turned the younger's stomach. It was both angry and terrified - a fanged animal caught in a corner. When he took a step towards Mike, Mike took a quick step back and lifted his hands in front of him. 

"Look, I'm not gonna say anything to anyone else," Mike said, "I just want to know - you realize those shouldn't be _here,_ don't you? Dad really doesn't like people snooping in his business - less than he likes me, even, and that's saying something." Sam's face didn't change at the flat joke. If anything, his lips pressed harder. 

"It's none of your business, kid, and I'll thank ya for stayin' out of it. Why the hell were you snooping in _my_ stuff, huh?" 

"It's company property, and if you think dad doesn't ever go looking through it -" 

"I thought you weren't his pawn," Sam snapped, cutting Mike off, "that a lie, kid? Gonna go tattle to him?" 

"Would you just listen to me for a minute? I'm not calling you out - I'm just trying to help -" 

"Then stay out of it, like I said," Sam retorted, shaking his head. "Don't need your help, don't need anything from him or you - leave it and fuck off. Got it?" With a soft snarl, Sam whipped around and left - Mike watching all the while, heart in his throat and blood pounding in his head. 

_Fine_ , Mike thought, spinning around with a rage of his own. It took all his effort not to grab the nearest plate and throw it - so he curled his hands into tight, painful fists instead. Mike would forget it, then, just like Sam had said. Nevermind that he knew his father better than anyone - if Sam wanted to play with fire, then Mike would mind his own business and avoid getting his own burns. 

"Fuck you too, then," Mike snarled to himself, so caught up in his anger as he stormed off that he missed the soft, nearby sound of something scuttling through the vents. 

* * *

The day only got worse from there - for the hour or two that William was around, he was in a dark mood of his own. It was easy to pick up on - Mike could feel it the instant the man walked through the door. So, Mike kept his head down and tried to avoid notice as much as possible. It didn't work entirely, William snapped at him a few times, but eventually his father wandered off to do something else, and didn't come back for the rest of the day. Over all, Mike was glad - but felt a lot more nervous when William hadn't shown back up by the time the restaurant was closed, clean, and empty. 

Mike was pretty sure the best thing would be to leave his father to his own devices - but Mike couldn't help but think of dark possibilities. That William had tried to get into Spring Bonnie, without success. Or maybe he'd had a heart attack back in a room no one could hear him in. And although a tiny voice - which Mike tried desperately to squash - couldn't help but think _good riddance,_ in the end Mike gave in to his concern and went searching. 

He found William hale and healthy, sitting on a chair in one of the Parts and Services rooms. The old Bonnie model was sitting in front of him, partially leaned over so William could access the back of its head, where the man was messing with something. Seeing he was alright, Mike half turned to leave. 

"What do you want, Michael?" William asked before Mike had even finished his turn. With a mental sigh, Mike looked towards his father again. William hadn't stopped what he was doing, but had half a glance turned in Mike's direction. 

"Everything's closed up and I hadn't seen you yet, just…came to check in," Mike said. 

"Don't trust me in my own restaurant?" William snarked, and that time Mike couldn't help but sigh out loud. Mentally grimacing at the sound, Mike ploughed ahead before his father could remark on it. 

"Of course I do, dad," He said, "but I hadn't seen you in a while, and you're only human. Just wanted to make sure you didn't have a heart attack or something back here." William didn't respond with anymore than a soft hum, and Mike felt his shoulders relax. Even if only a little. 

"Come here," William said after a second, beckoning. He leaned back slightly as Mike approached, and gestured at the animatronic in front of him. Mike looked, spotting a whole jumbled mess of wires and electronics, all surrounding an endoskeleton head. "Behold, the makings of an animatronic mind." 

"It's a lot more complex than I thought," Mike said after a second, having to find the right words to land on. 

"Well, they're hardly simple machines, even this old batch. Still, it only seems complicated at first glance. The most important portion is here," William said, pointing at a small, plain metal box with a green light shining from its top. It was nestled deep within the other parts and wires, in a small cage of metal. "This is the CPU," William continued, "the brain of the animatronic. It controls everything else - just like a human's."

"Is that what you're working on?" Mike asked. 

"No, no," William answered, shaking his head, "the CPUs of these models are decently intact. It's not yet worth risking harm by adjusting them. I'm working on his optical system, currently - much of it was scrapped for use in Toy Bonnie."

"Why are you working on it at all?"

"Well, these models were quite popular once," William said as he started to fiddle with it again - beginning to close it up, "they're useful for parts, to be sure, but if I could get them working again, they could be good business. I see no harm in tinkering with them, when I've got the time and desire." He got to his feet with a long stretch. "The restaurant is closed, you said? I suppose that's enough work for the day, then. Let's go." Without waiting for Mike to respond - or even ask any more questions - William clasped his hand tightly on his son's shoulder, and steered him away. 

Mike wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the impromptu lesson - whether William had just been in that good of a mood, or whether Mike had just caught him off guard. No matter the reason, Mike found himself in a better mood - even taking some comfort from his father's admittedly heavy grip on his shoulder. As they parted ways in the parking lot, William even gave Mike's shoulder a pat. Mike knew it was short-lived, undoubtedly William would make up for it the next day, but Mike still couldn't help but ride the cheerful feeling through the rest of the night. 

* * *

The restaurant seemed especially quiet in the soft glow of the early morning. It was usually a peaceful time and, frankly, one of Mike's favorites. _Usually_ , the restaurant was well put together and undisturbed, with the animatronics all in their proper places, just waiting for the doors to open and the children to arrive. Mike's early morning jobs were _usually_ easy - relieve Sam, do a brief overview to make sure all alternative exits were clear and closed, and just make sure everything was ready to open for the day. 

Something was wrong that morning, though. 

Mike noticed it as soon as he walked in. Over all, things seemed relatively normal - the stage curtains were closed, everyone was in their place, and most of the tables were neatly organized with paper hats, Fazbear stickers, and plates. 

Most. 

There was one table not so neat, though. It was closest to a hallway, and its plates and hats and stickers had been scattered to the ground. It looked as if someone had grabbed the table cloth and pulled it off, taking all the goodies with it. A few of the chairs were even toppled and looked as if they'd been kicked a ways. If not for the cleanliness everywhere else, Mike might have thought they'd actually had a break-in. 

"Sam?" Mike called, stepping around the mess as he headed for the security office, "Hey, Sam! You okay in…here?" Mike paused at the door to the office. It looked equally a mess - everything from the desk had been scattered to the floor, and the chair was lying sideways against the wall. Most notably, Sam was nowhere to be seen. 

"Sam?" Mike asked again, stomach twisting in worry. He turned and left the office in a hurry, heading next for the prize corner. "Dude, this really isn't funny! Where are you?" He asked, looking around the prize counter in frustration. The gift box was twinkling softly, as usual, and the room seemed completely undisturbed. With his heart in his throat, Mike left and made his way next to the Parts and Services area. 

He found more scattered things - parts knocked from low shelves, old legs and bits tossed about carelessly. He didn't know the rooms well, but he noted immediately that Freddy was absent. The bear Mike had once spotted lying on the ground was no longer doing that. A simple explanation, he was sure - someone had needed a part and had moved the bear out of the way. His father the afternoon before, maybe. 

So why did his absence bother Mike so much? 

Swallowing hard, Mike made his way through the rooms, going slow, suddenly worried that someone may be waiting to kill the next person to come looking. At first, though, he didn't find anyone - only more animatronics. The Bonnie his father had been working on the evening before, a badly withered Chica, and even Foxy, who Mike gave a wide berth to. There were no burglars waiting to ambush him. There was no one. 

At least, no one except Sam. 

Mike came to a stop as he rounded a final corner. At first, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing - he was frozen in place, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He couldn't process it - it was so surreal. So impossible and awful that he couldn't quite piece it together. 

Sam was stuffed inside of the old, withered, and currently headless body of Freddy. Stuffed was exactly the word - _those_ suits had never been meant to hold a human body. Someone - something - had taken Sam and pushed him inside anyway. Blood and viscera pooled on and around the old animatronic. Metal bits and wires stuck through and out of odd places on Sam's mutilated body - the only thing still free was his head, but it was still mangled and swollen and it hardly looked like him except those silver eyes that just the morning before had been filled with fury - 

"Sam!" Mike exclaimed, catching up with himself all at once. He hurried over to the animatronic, stuck his fingers deep into its neck, and began to feel around for the various latches that would dismantle its casing. His fingers slipped on the metal, slickening quick with the blood covering every surface. "Oh my god, oh my god," Mike whispered as he worked. Why wouldn't his fingers just press the latches? What was wrong with him? Sam needed those latches freed, if he had any chance at all - 

"Michael."

Mike froze at the sudden voice. Hands still deep in machinery and viscera, Mike turned his head to look over his shoulder. William was standing in the doorway, his eyes non-reactive to the sight in front of him. His _father_ was there - that was good. He could help! 

"Dad," Mike said, barely noticing how much like a whine his voice sounded, "I need your - we gotta help him, he's - he's stuck -" 

"Come away from him, Michael. There's no helping the poor sod now. He's already dead," William answered. 

"Dead? No, he's not - he can't be -" Mike shivered, unable to continue. With a strange grimace that Mike thought was meant to be a soothing smile, William held out his hand, and gestured. 

"Come here, Michael. The cleaning crews will be here shortly, and they'll take care of this."

"C-cleaning crews? Don't we - we have to tell someone. His family lives across country but they'll need to know and -" 

"Michael," William interrupted, his tone short, "they will _take care of it_."

"All of it?" 

"Yes, all of it. Come, now."

With a hard swallow and one last very brief look at Sam's mangled form, Mike slipped his hands from Freddy's body, turned, and walked over to his father. Once he was close enough, William reached out and laid a hand on the back of Mike's neck. He squeezed slightly, and Mike wasn't sure if it was meant to be reassurance, but even if it was, it didn't work. 

"Your hands are filthy. I'll help you get them clean," William said as he all but piloted Mike out of the room. He didn't say anything else for a while, and Mike didn't think much of it - he was practically stuck on autopilot, thinking both nothing at all and so many things he couldn't parse them out. His vision seemed to bounce between the present - his hands in a sink, his father scrubbing at them in a practiced way that must have come from years of cleaning various fluids off of animatronic fur - and the past - his hands scrabbling at the animatronic as Sam's blood and viscera filled his vision. 

"Michael." Mike gasped, blinking as he came back to the present. His father was standing in front of him, hands pressed to either side of his face. At Mike's attention, William lifted an eyebrow and let go. "Try and focus," William continued, "I understand you've had a shock, and I am trying to send you home, but you cannot go anywhere if you cannot focus long enough to drive."

"What _happened_ to him?" Mike exclaimed, the words bursting from him suddenly, "who the hell - _what_ the hell did that to him?! What did - how - I don't -" 

"Calm down," William said, his voice a murmur as he reached out and put his hands on either side of Mike's face once more. "Breathe, Michael. Calm down. I will tell you the answer - but not right now. It would only make it worse, right now. We will discuss it later, you have my word."

It wasn't good enough - Mike needed to know. He had a thousand questions - were they safe? Who needed to answer for this? What would happen to Sam's body? To Bonnie? Who would tell his family? What had happened? What had happened? What the actual hell had happened? 

Despite that, Mike had to admit, in some ways he didn't _want_ to know. Pushing would not help - so Mike looked up at his father with a quick nod. Then, he reached up, and wrapped his hands around William's wrists. Surprisingly, his father didn't let go, not even when another wave of confused emotion made Mike hold on even tighter. William didn't pull him any closer, of course - and Mike, even in that moment, wasn't stupid enough to try to embrace the man either. But even this was something - even this felt so unusually comforting that it helped bring Mike down. 

He didn't ask his questions, but he filed them away for later. Tried to think of anything else, even once his father saw fit to send him home. Tried to think, for example, of what he might do with Lizzy - William had given Mike permission to pick her up from Henry's and look after her for the day, if he felt up to it. Mike wasn't sure he did, but he found himself heading for Henry's anyway. And, then, to his father's - per Elizabeth's request, given it was where all her toys were. 

Later, a while after Elizabeth had gone to bed, when William finally arrived home, he and Mike sat together in a way that didn't often happen. Mike listened as his father gave his best working theory as to what, exactly, had happened. 

"It seems Sam tried to tamper with the animatronics," William explained, "something they are specifically built to resist. Imagine the kind of chaos someone could cause, after all, if they could successfully rewire their facial recognition systems. Of course, the intent wasn't for them to react so…violently."

"The animatronics did that?" Mike exclaimed, immediately thinking of the times he'd been in reaching distance of them, "they - are you telling me they, what, tried to stuff Sam into a suit? Because he messed with them?" 

"It seems that way," William agreed, "don't worry so much - I checked them over myself, and they're back to working order."

"After they killed someone!" Mike said, all but jumping from his seat in order to pace the floor, "shouldn't you, I don't know, shut the place down or something? What if it happens again? What if they hurt someone - what if they hurt a _kid?_ " 

"They won't," William said, leaning back in his chair with a shrug, "there's absolutely no reason for this to happen again, unless someone tries to tamper with them. Again. We'll add extra warnings into the training but, to be frank, anyone who would try deserves whatever they get."

"Sam deserved to die?" Mike exclaimed, whipping around to face William. The look his father gave him in return was bored, slightly disappointed - normal, really. 

"Think about this for a second, Michael. Use your brain. What possible reason could he have for tampering with their facial recognition software? The very thing that helps them identify potential criminals hiding among the children? It's very likely they did us - and everyone - a favor."

"Sam was a good person, he wouldn't have -" 

"Yes, well, aren't they always?" 

With a hard breath, Mike sat back down and looked across the table at his father. Something in William's face had changed - Mike wouldn't call it warm or kind, but there was something almost _inviting_ in the older man's gaze. And he waited - didn't scold Mike for his angry tones, or stupid thoughts, or any number of things he usually would have called out by now. 

"People are going to ask questions," Mike said, after a minute, "his family will come looking -" 

"You don't have to worry about that," William cut in, "these are things I'm plenty capable of taking care of." He leaned forward with a slight curve of his lips. "Put it out of your mind and trust me, Michael. All you need to do is keep your head down and keep doing the job you're paid for. Anyone starts asking you questions, bring them my way. Let the grownups handle the fallout. Do you understand?" 

For a moment, they sat in limbo. Mike watched his father, his mind racing with all the implications and information and the war between trust and distrust and self-preservation. William, meanwhile, just waited - and Mike didn't know what would be on the other side, if he continued to question things. 

"I understand," Mike finally said with a hard swallow. When William immediately looked pleased, Mike couldn't help but give his own shaky smile. His father rose from the table and walked past, pausing to clasp a hand to Mike's shoulder. 

"I'll see you in the morning, then?" William asked - the implied question clear. Mike's stomach twisted - he didn't want to go back. 

It wasn't as if he had much choice. 

"Yes sir," Mike said, and he froze in place when William gave his hair a small ruffle as he walked away. Mike lifted a hand and touched it carefully to his hair, his heart all but ready to burst from his chest. He'd once seen similar gestures pass from William to Matthew, and even Lizzy got a pat on the head on occasion. But Mike couldn't remember a single time his father had ever ruffled his hair like that - had ever touched him beyond a firm, guiding hand on the shoulder or the back of Mike's neck. 

Mike would think about that second - _relish_ in it - for hours, long beyond when he should have been asleep. It replayed over and over in his mind, doing its part to keep the nightmares of the day at bay. Even if only for a night. 


	4. Jeremy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike has a job to do, no matter how traumatic what happened was. The universe doesn't seem inclined to make his life any easier, though.

The next day was uncomfortable, to say the least - William's goodwill was spent, meaning Mike was expected back at work and, more problematic, expected to _work_. Despite the fact that, the moment he walked through the doors, he began to tremor and feel more than a little ill. There was no one to relieve that morning, which meant for two hours it was just Mike and the animatronics - the ones who had, supposedly, killed Sam. Images of being chased, of his own body being stuffed in a suit, haunted Mike's every footstep. He never let any of the animatronics out of sight, but kept a wide berth around them at the same time. 

As if nothing had happened at all, they stayed still and quiet. Just like always. Despite that, Mike couldn't make himself get anywhere near the stage. He didn't talk to them that morning. 

The day didn't improve with the arrival of his father or the customers. If anything, it grew worse - now the animatronics were awake, and occasionally they roamed the floor with their preprogrammed lines and offers of pizza. Mike got caught in a strange dance of helping customers, watching them and the animatronics, and keeping his distance from the wandering robots - all while trying to make sure it wasn't obvious to his father that he was doing the last. 

By midday he felt tired and worn, having spent the day so caught up in his anxiety that there was no time for even a single spare thought. Unfortunately, the day still had plenty in store for him. The first was the jingle of the door, announcing the arrival of two police officers - fully uniformed and childless, and definitely not there for fun. In his hyper aware state, Mike spotted them immediately, and felt his blood run cold. Like a deer in the headlights, he watched them as they looked around, spotted him, and made their way over. 

The same day that Fredbear had malfunctioned, Mike had been a wreck. He'd been immediately separated from both his brother and father, and - along with his three friends - had been gathered up for talks with law enforcement. Mike had been in no state to answer questions - everytime he'd tried, sobbing questions about his brother or requests for his father had been the only things to come out. Although the officers he'd spoken to had been fairly understanding, Mike still remembered the day as a long one full of confusion and the desperate, terrified need for his father. 

It'd been hours before William showed up. The first thing he'd said to Mike was that the teenager was lucky he hadn't been thrown in jail and left to rot. 

The second thing he'd said, after smooth-talking the various adults so he could actually take Mike away with no charges pressed, was that Matthew had died. 

Mike didn't dislike police in general, but he did his best to avoid them. A part of him remained petrified at the idea that they'd still come for him, one of these days. That they'd finally charge him for what he did, toss him in prison and leave him to rot, and that the next time William wouldn't bother to save him. 

It didn't help that it was one of his father's favorite threats. 

So when Mike saw them in that moment, saw them heading his way, his head filled with fluff and his breathing stopped. He stared at them, and though he vaguely heard them greet him - and then, try and greet him again - he couldn't respond. He couldn't _breathe._ This was it, he was going to jail, for Matthew or Sam or probably some other crime he hadn't even realized he'd committed.

"HEY KIDS! DO YOU WANT SOME PIZZA?" The voice was close - so close it startled Mike right out of his desperate, looping thoughts. He jumped a mile, turned in place - only to find Toy Bonnie there, holding out a platter of pizza towards Mike and the cops. His breathing kicking back in, Mike glanced quickly at the cops - they seemed almost as startled as he was. 

"COME ON! PIZZA'S GREAT, DON'T YOU WANT A SLICE?" Toy Bonnie continued. Taking a slight step away from him, Mike cleared his throat - took a full breath, than another. He wasn't going to get dragged out on his ass in the middle of the restaurant, especially not with William around. His father would never suffer the shame of something like that happening where people could see it, after all. Mike tried to keep that thought firmly in mind - oddly enough, the additional terror of an animatronic so close to him helped keep his paranoia in check. 

"N-no, thank you, Bonnie," Mike stammered, feeling a little more confident with every word, "please go offer the pizza to someone else."

"DON'T MISS THE SHOW, KIDS! SEE YOU THEN!" Was the rabbit's response as he almost immediately turned and plodded away. Feeling himself relax just a little further, Mike let out another breath, then turned to look at the officers. 

"Sorry about that," He said, "was there something I could help you with, Officers?" They exchanged a look, but to Mike's relief, they didn't press about his initial reaction. Instead, one nodded. 

"We were looking for the owner, actually. Just needed to ask them a few questions…?"

"Oh, sure," Mike said - feeling a strange mix of further apprehension and relief, "I can go and fetch him for you, if you wouldn't mind waiting here?" At their nodded agreement, Mike turned and walked away - using all of his will not to run. His panic returned, though, as he got closer to his father's office - and he busted through the door none too gracefully. 

"Dad, there are cops here," he said, finding himself strangely breathless. William looked up from whatever paperwork he was dealing with, and Mike thought it was unfair that the man stayed so calm. He didn't even look alarmed or worried at all, he just nodded and got to his feet. 

"Did they ask you any questions?" William asked, straightening his shirt as he walked towards the door. Mike slipped out of the way with a shake of his head. 

"Just wanted to talk to you," He answered. William nodded and paused as he passed. 

"I'll bring them back here to talk," He said, before heading out for the main room. Mike understood the message behind his words - he wasn't telling Mike to leave the office, but was giving him the opportunity. So, of course, Mike took it - wanting to be far away from both his father and the police. So, he went to the nearest supply closet, and pretended to fiddle around in it. Once he was sure they'd passed by, Mike went back to the main floor. 

He found himself stopped in place once more, this time by the way Toy Bonnie's eyes met his the instant Mike walked out into the room. It was a quick look - so quick, in fact, that Mike told himself it was just a coincidence. He'd just happened to look at the rabbit at the same time Toy Bonnie's eyes had scanned where he was. That was all it was. 

It was all he had the energy to believe. 

* * *

The cops left after an hour or two, and given William seemed as composed and calm as normal, Mike could only assume they'd found nothing amiss. A part of him wanted to ask about it - a part of him didn't want to get involved. In the end, though, it didn't matter, because it turned out there was still one surprise left in the day. 

William had hired a new night guard, something he mentioned to Mike only a minute or so before they walked over to greet the man together. When Mike saw their newest employee, he stopped dead in his tracks, and felt the color drain from his face. 

Jeremy Fitzgerald was just about Mike's height, and was likely to pass Mike altogether soon enough. He was dressed in a freshly pressed uniform, held himself with slightly nervous confident, and looked every bit the role of a Fazbear employee. 

He also looked all of fifteen. Maybe sixteen if you squinted. And while Mike understood on one level that they were very close in age, on another all he could think was that their new night guard was a _teenager._ William had hired a _teenager_ to take on the role that had just gotten a man killed. 

"Mr. Fitzgerald," William greeted, holding a hand out to the younger man. They shook hands - quick, but firm, the exact kind William would respect - and then William continued. "I appreciate you coming in early. I wanted to be sure you got the lay of the land while others were still here. It shouldn't take long, so you're welcome to return home after and rest before your shift begins - in fact, I recommend it. I also wanted to introduce you to your coworkers. Starting with Michael here." William paused, and turned slightly to gesture at Mike. Jeremy looked at Mike as well, and Mike thought he must look especially pale, because something uncertain crossed Jeremy's face. 

"He's the security guard on the day shift," William continued, "you won't see him in the evenings, but he'll relieve you come morning. If you have any concerns, you're welcome to bring them to his attention." William paused for a second. "He's also my son."

"It's nice to meet you, Michael," Jeremy said, moving closer to Mike and holding out his hand. Mike took it reluctantly, gave it a shake, tried to avoid making prolonged eye contact. 

"Likewise," Mike answered, the words like nails pulling through his throat, "welcome to Freddy's, Jeremy." 

"Let me show you around," William said with a gesture, cutting their interaction short, "this way, if you will." He walked away, and Jeremy followed - though not after throwing Mike one last concerned glance. Once he'd turned his back, Mike turned to watch them go, his heart in his throat and his unasked questions burning on his tongue. 

"Fuck," He muttered to himself. 

* * *

"He's only sixteen?!" Mike asked, and try as he did, he couldn't keep his tone calm or collected. The day had just been too much, start to finish, and although he knew losing his cool now was a bad move, he couldn't help it. "Is this even legal?" 

"Of course it's legal," William said. He was collecting his things for the evening, and didn't even look at Mike as he spoke. "Why would I have hired him if it wasn't? Do you think I'm an idiot, Michael?" 

"N-no," Mike was quick to stammer, "of course not. I just - he's only sixteen! What about Sam? What if that happens to Jeremy? He's just a teenager, with a whole life in front of him -" 

"So you think Sam deserved to die, then?" William interrupted. 

"What? No, I - you said he tampered with them -" 

"He did," William agreed, turning to lean on the edge of the desk and finally look at Mike. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, and tilted his head slightly. "But you seem to be suggesting that it's his age that makes it okay that he died."

"That's - no, that's not what I meant," Mike said, pulling his shoulders up to his ears and looking away. "That's not what I was trying to say. I only -"

"If you're this concerned about Mr. Fitzgerald," William continued, "then I'm sure he'd be more than happy to switch shifts with you. Since you're clearly so much more mature than him, I'm sure that'd be a compromise you'd be happy with, hm?" 

The words caught in Mike's throat, and all he could do was shake his head. He didn't dare speak - tears stung at his eyes, and Mike was terrified if he tried to talk that they'd come rushing out. That was something he'd never live down. 

"I didn't think so," William murmured. He pushed away from the desk, slipped his bag onto his shoulder, and began to leave the office. As he passed Mike, he paused, and looked down at his son - who still couldn't make himself return the gaze. "So long as Mr. Fitzgerald doesn't tamper with anything he ought to keep his nose out of, there's nothing to worry about. It might behoove you to pass that message along. Goodnight, Michael." 

"'Night," Mike muttered in return as his father left the office. Mike waited a few long minutes, waited to be sure that William had left the building entirely. Mike made his way to the main room, and when he saw it was empty, let out a long and shuddering breath. It was capped with a sob, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He held them there for a long few minutes, breathing raggedy as he forced the tears back. He wouldn't cry for this. 

He _wouldn't._

As if suddenly possessed, he dropped his hands and whipped around to look at the stage. The animatronics stood there quietly, the stage lights dark, and in a pique of anger-fueled bravery, Mike stomped closer to them. Once there, he took a bracing breath, then lifted a hand to point accusingly in their directions. 

"Don't you dare hurt him," he said, his hissed voice almost a snarl, "he's just a kid. So leave him the fuck alone. Don't - don't make me find him like that, too. Don't -" Anger draining, Mike let his hand drop. "Please," He whispered. With another heavy sigh, Mike turned away and made his way for the exit himself, rubbing at his forehead as he went. He needed to go home and sleep, dinner be damned - and that was exactly what he intended to do. 

He'd need the energy come morning, because he had no idea what he'd find. He only hoped it wouldn't be another dead body in a suit. 


	5. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry, frantic parent creates tension between Mike and his father. Against his better judgement, Mike lets it get to him.

Mike pushed the door to the pizzeria open, his heart stammering in his throat. It was the morning after Jeremy's first shift and, as was his job, Mike was at the restaurant bright and early to relieve the younger man. 

Mike didn't want to be there. The thought of finding Jeremy stuffed somewhere, just as Sam had been, made Mike feel sick. It'd been the only thing to feature in his nightmares, all night long. His stomach was doing flips, and he was imagining all the ways in which his mind might finally break if he found Jeremy's dead body. 

Finally, though, it seemed the universe was ready to take some pity on him. Mike had only just walked into the restaurant when Jeremy appeared in the hallway, heading for the door. He seemed distracted - he was rubbing his forehead and mostly looking at the floor as he walked. When he realized Mike was there, though, he looked up and went still for a quick second. It was brief, but Mike caught it all the same and frowned at the other's reaction. As Jeremy got closer, Mike felt even more concerned - there was a slight tremor in the other's hands, and he seemed pale. He looked a little sick himself, actually. 

"Uh, hi, Michael," Jeremy said as he got closer and paused, finally letting his hand slip from his head, "You're here to take over for the day, right?" 

"Yeah," Mike agreed, "hey, call me Mike, okay? You, uh, you alright there, Jeremy? You kinda look like you've seen a ghost." Jeremy's eyes seemed to widen slightly at that, catching Mike off guard. It'd only been an idiom, but Jeremy looked as if it weren't the least bit funny. 

"I'm…fine," He said, "I just had a little spill, hit my head. I'm -" 

"Jesus, you sure you're alright?" Mike asked, immediately pulling his flashlight out and flicking it on, "here, let me see your eyes -" 

"I'm fine," Jeremy said firmly, pushing Mike's quickly approaching hand away, "Honest. I didn't even hit it that hard. I've got a little headache, but I'm not dizzy or anything. Leave it, okay?" 

"Oh. Yeah, okay, of course" Mike said, slipping the flashlight back into its holster even as he stepped away from Jeremy. What'd come over him? No one would want him prying at them like that, getting that close - Mike grimaced mentally and felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment. To his surprise, though, when he dared glance at Jeremy, the younger man looked embarrassed too. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap," Jeremy muttered. As Mike looked more fully at him, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've never worked a midnight shift before, I'm just tired. I appreciate your concern - kind of surprising, actually…"

"What do you mean?" 

"Nothing. Um, am I clear to go? Or is there something else I need to take care of before?" 

"Oh, uh, no, go for it, go, you know, get some sleep," Mike said with a quick shake of his head. He stepped aside, though there'd been plenty of room for Jeremy to go around him. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning?" 

"Uh-huh," Jeremy answered, moving on towards the door at the all-clear, "see you tomorrow."

Mike watched as the younger man left, feeling bewildered by their conversation. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, they'd spoken so briefly the day before, but grumpy hadn't been it. Mike had just thought Sam was a grumpy old man tired of his minimum wage job, but now…

"Is it something about this place?" He asked the nonresponsive room. Probably a stupid question - he worked there, and knew exactly the sort of environment William Afton created around him. After a few seconds, Mike sighed and decided it didn't much matter if Jeremy liked him or not. The teenager was alive, and that really was all Mike had asked for. He straightened a bit - hadn't even realized he'd been slouching - and brushed at the front of his uniform. Doing his best to put the strange interaction out of his mind, Mike moved on to prepare the restaurant for the day ahead. 

Of course, Mike kept a wide berth around the stage as he went, and in doing so, entirely missing the brief glance the Toy Animatronics shared with each other. 

* * *

Things felt considerably more settled that day, at least in the earlier hours. Despite his best efforts, Mike thought about Jeremy's behavior a lot, but otherwise fell into his usual work routine. William was scarce, even, which definitely kept Mike's mood a bit higher than usual. There were still the animatronics to contend with, but they were easy enough to watch and avoid. Even if they did grow close, Mike found himself slightly less nervous around them, though he wasn't sure what had changed. 

It was shortly after lunch when Mike glanced over towards the jingling door - as he usually did when new customers walked in. The woman who entered seemed mostly unassuming - middle age, with a mass of disheveled blonde hair pulled into a thick ponytail. But she came alone - no child with her - and had a stack of papers in her arms. When she looked around the room, her eyes were quick and jumpy. Mike straightened slightly with a frown, just in time for her to spot him. Immediately she started for him, and Mike braced himself at the clear aggression in her stance. 

"Where is she, you assholes?" The woman said in a strangled scream as she got close enough to stab a finger into Mike's chest. Not expecting the noise or assault, Mike grimaced and held a hand up to try and block her from getting any closer. "What did you do with her? Where the fuck is she?!" 

"Ma'am, I -" 

The woman ruffled the papers in her hand and held one up, shoving it so close to Mike's face that it brushed against his nose. It was a missing person flier - and the face on it was that of a little girl, blonde hair surrounding her face in ringlets. In the picture, she looked happy - beaming, in fact, a puppy clutched carefully in her arms. It was a happy photo - contrasted darkly by the 'MISSING - SUSIE FRANKLIN' and 'LAST SEEN JUNE 7, 8PM AT FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZERIA' surrounding it. 

"Her name is Susie," the woman snarled, "her name is Susie, and I know you jackasses have her! Where is she? Where is my little girl? Where -" She paused for a quick, shuddering breath. She took another one, and that one ended in a wet sniff. "Where is she?" The woman asked again, her voice breaking now, "Her name is Susie. She loves horses, but she's never ridden one, and I told her I'd take her later this summer and her favorite color is yellow and, I -" She lowered the flier, her shoulders shaking badly. Mike looked into her eyes, and felt his chest constrict at the tears pouring down her face. "Where is she?" 

"I'm sorry," Mike said quietly, swallowing hard. He reached a hand out, paused, then with a bracing breath reached further and clutched the woman's shoulder in his grip. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but I don't know. I really don't know. Um, are these - would you like me to put them up around here?" 

"Please," she whispered, and at that Mike carefully took the pile of fliers, grabbed a few from it, and gently handed it back, not letting go until she had a firm grasp of it. "You really don't know? We were here - we were here and then she wasn't and you - someone here has to know. Someone. Please. If not you, then who? Who else could know where she's gone?" 

"I'm sorry," Mike murmured again, "I really am. I don't know anything, I didn't even know, and I haven't _heard_ anything - but we'll put these fliers up, and if we hear anything at all, we'll let you know. Okay?" 

"Thank you," she whispered, "I'm sorry to be - I'm just - I want my little girl home."

"I can only imagine. I'm so sorry," Mike repeated, thinking how he might feel if it were Lizzy in Susie's place. He didn't have children, but losing his sister would break him. Losing his brother almost had. How much worse could it be for a parent? "Can I get you anything, ma'am? Some water? Pizza? Or…anything?" 

"No," She answered, shaking her head and stepping away. "No, I have to get these, um, up. Thank you, though…?"

Mike went to give her his name, but before it slipped from his lips, William cut through their conversation, all at once standing not far behind the woman. Mike hadn't even seen his father approach. 

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now," William said. Immediately, the woman turned towards him, her shoulders tensing again. Before she could speak, however, William continued. "I appreciate you're upset - truly, I do. As a father who has lost a child, I understand your pain. But if you have questions for us, I must request that you send them through the proper channels. We have, after all, already been in touch with law enforcement - have they spoken to you?"

"Yes, they'd mentioned," the woman said with a heavy sigh, "I only thought, maybe if I came myself - I-I'm not sure. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make a scene. You'll put the fliers up?" 

"Of course," William agreed smoothly. "May I see you out?" He asked, gesturing for the door. Her answer was a shake of her head, even as she began to move towards it under her own volition. Mike and William both watched her go, and only once she was gone did William look to Mike. 

"If anyone else comes with questions, be sure to send them my way. This is a tense time, and we have a business to protect." He paused and glanced at the fliers. "Be sure to put a few up, where people can see them. We should do what we can to assist in finding the girl."

"Sure," Mike responded, and although William lifted an eyebrow at Mike's short tone, the younger man didn't retract it. Apparently deciding he didn't care for having an argument at the moment, William simply nodded and walked away. Mike watched him go, something burning deep in his belly. The woman hadn't commented on it, but William's handling of the situation had seemed especially cold. And Mike was _used_ to his father being cold. 

Mike had definitely had it under control, too, so why had his father interfered to begin with? He'd practically turned the woman out, when she was just trying to find anyways. Annoyance at the interaction followed Mike around for the rest of his shift, and even he was surprised when, by the end of the day, he still felt agitated with his father. Once the restaurant was closed and it was only them left - Mike finishing up a quick sweep while William changed around a few party placements - Mike did his best to keep his head low. They didn't speak, but Mike's annoyance hung heavy between them. 

Mike tried to put it out of mind - repeated the mantra that it didn't matter and saying anything wouldn't help. But then he'd think of that poor woman again - of her misplaced anger and desperate tears - and get angry himself all over again. She'd needed some reassurance, maybe a hug - not to be ushered out of the restaurant like a bother. 

"If you have something to say, then say it," William finally snapped, and the irritation in his voice brought both Mike's attention and anger roaring back to the surface. The younger man leaned the broom he was holding against the wall, took a breath, and then spun around to face his father. For a half second, he hesitated - but then the woman's face swam back into view and he pressed forward. 

"I had it under control," Mike said, feeling the words clip shortly off of his tongue, "she was going to leave on her own - would have been gone a minute or two later, even. There was no reason for you to kick her out like that -" 

"She was causing a scene. The other patrons were already talking. Accusations like that -" 

"She's upset!" Mike interrupted. Something in his stomach twisted violently at the look of rage that came over his father's face, but Mike was too into it to stop now. "Her kid is _missing._ She's just lashing out at the nearest target - the last place she saw her little girl, by the way - because she's terrified! Just because you couldn't possibly understand what it's like to care about your own kid -" 

William moved faster than Mike expected, and the younger man's words were cut off as he was shoved back against the wall. His father's hand was bundled in the front of Mike's shirt, and he moved until there was hardly room for a piece of paper between their faces. Mike reached up and grabbed at William's hand, tried to push it away, but his father only shoved him more firmly against the wall. 

"I don't _care,_ Michael?" William hissed, "Is that it? I don't _care_? Then who, might I ask, raised you - all _three_ of you - after your mother ran off without a word? Who was there to feed you, and get you to school, and help you with your homework?" 

_Not any more than you had to,_ Mike thought desperately, though the words caught on his tongue, _what you did hardly counts!_ But the words wouldn't come, and William wasn't finished. The first had only fueled Mike's ire, but the next words hit home in the way his father had really intended. 

_"Who,"_ William continued, his voice falling into an even quieter hiss, full of poison and malice. He pulled Mike forward slightly, then shoved him back again - Mike's head hit the wall with a hard enough _thunk_ that it sent a shock down through his arms. "Let you stay in his house, continued to feed and clothe you, even after you _killed your own brother?"_

They both panted as they fell deathly quiet. Mike tried desperately to hold on to his own anger, but it drained quickly in the aftermath of William's words. Drained further still, when the space it left opened up for a sudden wave of chilling regret. It'd been a long time now, years in fact, since Mike had really talked back to his father. In moments of idiocy, he might occasionally say something smart - but this was nothing like that. In fact, Mike wasn't sure if he'd _ever_ spoken to his father with quite so much anger. He was almost positive he hadn't, because he couldn't remember ever seeing quite _this_ much fury in his father's eyes. 

Not even after Matthew's death. 

William was glaring at Mike, but it was more than that. His eyes were frigid and dark and somehow _empty._ It was almost as if Mike's father wasn't even there - or, at least, not aware anymore. All at once Mike felt his throat close with a tight fist of terror. Suddenly, hysterically, he wondered if his father was going to kill him. 

As if sensing the very thought, William shifted his hold. His hand went from Mike's shirt up to his neck, and he tightened his grip - and though Mike could still breathe, the threat was there. All it would take was a little more strength - Mike would be no physical match for his father. With a gasp so sudden and strong it was painful, Mike lifted his hands and wrapped them around William's digits. Mike didn't feel a single drop of anger at all anymore - just bone-deep, mortal terror. 

"Dad?" Mike asked, not able to drum up even a bit of shame at the way his voice came out a trembling plea. Especially when it didn't even seem to touch William's dark-eyed rage. The only response was another slight tightening in William's fingers. In that moment, Mike knew beyond a doubt that it was not his fear or paranoia playing tricks on him. His life was in his father's hands - and William was truly weighing whether or not Mike would get to keep it. 

The sound of grinding gears filled the air - not any louder than they usually were, but deafening in the eerie silence that'd fallen between the two men. Something shattered between them - suddenly there was something more in William's eyes. Mike glimpsed it briefly before William turned his head to look over his shoulder. Uncertain, Mike looked over William's shoulder as well. They both went stock-still at the sight. 

Toy Bonnie was looking at them. Not just a glance, but full on looking - his body hadn't moved, but his head had turned completely, and his eyes had shifted downwards to stare right at them both. For a long heartbeat, neither of them breathed - and then William let go of Mike with one last jostle and a soft grunt from his son. For once, he had nothing cutting to say to finish their conversation. Instead, without even looking at Mike again, he simply turned and walked away. He grabbed his bag and left the building entirely, the door slamming shut behind him. Mike looked away from Toy Bonnie to watch William go. As soon as his father was out the door, the spell on Mike broke, his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. 

He pulled his knees to his chest and pressed himself as tightly into a ball as he could, trying to physically push away the awful, painful feelings running amok inside. He couldn't name them - couldn't even try - but they rumbled and clawed in his stomach and his chest and his head and they _hurt._ It _hurt._ And when he couldn't force them out physically, he let the sob rip from his throat instead. For a long few minutes, he forgot the animatronic entirely, and sobbed - each one released in a painful, chest-squeezing breath. 

Mike didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually the feelings sunk low enough that his tears subsided. It left him worn out, every bone in his body aching, and he felt dazed - barely able to concentrate on the world around him. He tried once or twice to think about what had just happened, but every time he did it was as if his head filled with hard, painful clouds. So he stopped thinking entirely. He just left his head resting on his knees, dug his fingertips into his calves, and did his best to ride the waves of emotions as they swelled and subsided, came and went. 

"That guy's a grade-A asshole, huh?" The voice - mechanical and somewhat high pitched - cut through Mike's daze like an arrow. With a start, he lifted his head quickly - only to find Toy Bonnie not only still looking over, but now fully turned in his direction. The rabbit's eyes were lit up - glowing green in the poor lighting of the room. At Mike's attention, Toy Bonnie blinked, tilted his head, and raised his hand in a wave. 

"Hey there, little buddy. Name's Bonnie the Bunny - let's be friends!" 


	6. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike deals with the aftermath of the night. From Toy Bonnie to William, it's all a bit more than he can handle.

Mike stared at the rabbit animatronic, who held his position for a long, awkward moment. Finally, Toy Bonnie shifted, and held both hands up in a big shrug for a second before lowering them down to his sides. They didn't stay there long, though - as Toy Bonnie began to talk, his hands moved all over in various, exaggerating gestures. 

"What," Toy Bonnie said, "nothing to say to that? I promise, I am an  _ awesome  _ friend. Who wouldn't want to be friends with the one and only star of the show?!" He paused and jabbed his thumb into his chest. Again, he waited in that pose, eyes never leaving Mike. The human knew Toy Bonnie was waiting for him to say something, but nothing would come. With the astonishment of what he was seeing mixing in with everything else that had just happened, Mike felt like he was glued in place. 

"Alright pal, alright, I get it," Toy Bonnie said as he moved off of the stage and walked in Mike's direction. He got close, until he was right in front of Mike. "Come on, up you get. On your feet's a good place as any to start, huh?" With that, the rabbit reached down for Mike - which was the push Mike needed to move again. 

"No!" Mike exclaimed, immediately scrabbling away from the rabbit. Toy Bonnie froze in place as Mike kicked away, and just watched as the human managed to get to his feet and back away even further. "Don't - just leave me alone."

"Yeah okay, sure, can do. Hey, look, you don't have to be afraid of me," Toy Bonnie said. He straightened and turned to look at Mike, but didn't move any closer, just held his hands out in a soothing gesture. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I just helped you out, didn't I?" 

He had, hadn't he? Feeling uncertain, wondering if this was some sort of setup for a trap, Mike nodded shortly. 

"Right. Look, I'm sure you're still shaken by what happened with the Night Guard and all, but that wasn't me. Wasn't any of us, actually," Toy Bonnie turned slightly to gesture at the stage. "Those old guys just get a little…violent, sometimes. But you're as safe as you can get with the toys!" 

"How are you talking?" Mike asked weakly, leaning back against the wall, "like…talking, talking? Did I hit my head?" He paused, considering a worse possibility. Maybe William hadn't let go and left - maybe that, like the talking animatronic, was the sweet lie Mike's mind had played in place of his death. "Am I dead?" 

"No, and no - your noggin's just fine, probably, and you're alive and - uh. I wouldn't necessarily call you  _ well,  _ but you're alive, anyway." Toy Bonnie looked fully at Mike again and gave another shrug. "Look pal, it's a long story. Between the parts you aren't ready to hear and the parts I don't understand either, there's not a whole lot I can tell you. Can't you just take the fact we're sentient at face value?" 

"Do you understand how impossible this is?" Mike answered, "how can you ask me to just accept - wait.  _ We're?"  _

"Sure, it ain't just me. Come on guys, say hi," Toy Bonnie said, glancing at the stage again. For a second, there was silence - then the whirring of servos as both Toy Freddy and Toy Chica looked over, their bodies loosening as they moved. 

"Hey there sweetie," Toy Chica said, lifting a hand to wave. Even talking presumably under her own power, she still retained the sort of Southern Valley girl voice she had when she was saying her preprogrammed lines. "Don't you worry a bit, we'll stay all the way over here - we wouldn't wanna crowd you!" 

"But we hope we can be friends!" Toy Freddy added in - his voice was deeper, a bit goofy, and lyrical. He half sung every word he spoke. "After all, you seem like the good sort, kiddo!" 

"The old guys are sentient too," Toy Bonnie said, looking at Mike again. For his part, Mike was staring at the stage. At Toy Bonnie's words, though, he looked back to the rabbit, his mouth still slightly agape. "But they've got strange programming. They can't move or anything until midnight hits. I dunno. Probably best you meet them another time anyway. Slowly."

"The old - they're the ones who, uh, who -" 

"Killed the night guard, yeah," Toy Bonnie filled in. "Look, they didn't do it on purpose though. Bonnie's programming got messed with and he lost control - it ain't often, but it happens sometimes. We -" 

"This is insane," Mike burst out, shaking his head as he pressed himself a little further against the wall. "I'm having a nightmare, or a mental break, or - or something. This is crazy, I can't - I really can't deal with this right now. I gotta go." He'd decided it before the words were even out of his mouth. Mike turned before he'd finished speaking, looking towards the door with the intention of all but sprinting for it. 

"Hang on, just a sec," Toy Bonnie said. Mike turned his head and froze when the rabbit took a step towards him. Seeing Mike's look, Toy Bonnie paused again. "I get it, it's alright," Toy Bonnie's voice had changed in pitch slightly, as if meant to be soothing, "you're welcome to leave, no worries. Just don't  _ tell  _ anyone about us, okay? No matter what you think is happening, that's one thing you gotta do for us. Consider it…repayment for me helping get that guy off your back. Can you promise me that, at least?" 

"I won't say anything," Mike agreed, his voice shaking as he spoke. He paused, tried to clear his throat - it didn't help. "Who'd believe me, anyway?" If he told anyone, they'd chuck him in a mental hospital. He didn't know what was going on with him, but he was certain that wouldn't help. "I'm gonna - I gotta -" With a shake of his head, Mike looked away and beelined it for the door. True to Toy Bonnie's word, no one stopped him from leaving. 

* * *

Mike's night was mostly restless, spent thinking over everything that had happened, though he didn't manage to make any decisions about anything. His thoughts simply bounced around too much. When he did manage to sleep, dreams of killer rabbits and shadowed men woke him back up again. Despite it all, Mike was back to work at six the next morning. He didn't want to be, of course, not after the insanity of the night before. But even after supposedly sentient, talking animatronics, inciting more of William's ire seemed like the worse option. He couldn't even call in sick - after their argument, William would see right through it. At best, Mike would never live it down. At worst - well. Mike wasn't entirely sure what the worst was, anymore. 

His anxiety bounced from topic to topic as he entered the building. He was afraid he really was having a mental break and that it'd get worse. Part of him was still terrified that Jeremy would be dead. Another part of him was afraid the animatronics would be waiting to jump him, offended at his dismissal of them the night before. Still yet another voice - and he hated it the most - whispered softly that maybe it'd be  _ William  _ waiting for him, in order to finish what he'd almost begun. 

Mike did not expect to open the door and find Jeremy on stage with the Toy Animatronics, Toy Bonnie frozen in an awkward and unnatural pose. Mike paused, blinked, and in that heartbeat Toy Bonnie resumed his movements. He straightened, waved, and did his best to grin. 

"Mornin', Mike!" Toy Bonnie called. Once again, Mike felt his jaw drop, although the look Jeremy gave him told Mike that the teenager wasn't as surprised that  _ Mike  _ knew. There was a long pause, and Mike felt the awkwardness like a heavy blanket. His glance bounced between Toy Bonnie and Jeremy, finally staying on the teenager. 

"So, uh, I'm not having an ongoing mental break then?" Mike asked - his attempt at making the question a joke falling flat under the shakiness of his own voice. Jeremy's answering laugh was brief and nervous, too, at which Mike felt his shoulders relax just a little. 

"Not unless we're both having one," Jeremy responded, "and that seems unlikely. For, uh, for what it's worth, they told me that first night and so far have been, like, pretty nice. Or at least they haven't tried to kick me out or anything. Kinda what I thought would happen when I first heard that tape."

"You thought a lot more than that, considering you freaked so hard you fell and hit your head," Toy Bonnie cut in. 

"So that's how that happened," Mike mused, while Jeremy scoffed. 

"Yeah, well, he came from the vent, Mike! What was I supposed to think?" 

"I'd probably have done the same," Mike agreed, feeling himself grin a little - all at once, talking to Jeremy seemed a little easier. Suddenly, having Toy Bonnie standing there - sentient, talking - didn't seem quite so abrasive and astounding and terrifying. Jeremy was smiling a bit as well, and in the moment they exchanged a brief, unreadable look. 

"You okay with this lot? I'm wearing down quick," Jeremy asked after a few seconds, gesturing with a thumb at Toy Bonnie. Mike looked to the rabbit as well, who tilted his head and waited. Mike took a deep breath, then nodded - what was he going to do, make Jeremy stay? 

"I'll be fine, have a good rest of your day Jeremy. See you tomorrow?" 

"See you then."

Once Jeremy left, the rest of the morning passed in relative ease. Toy Bonnie proved to be a bit of a chatter box - but he hung out on his stage and stayed out of Mike's way, and out of his personal space. The others stayed quiet, and Toy Bonnie mentioned that they were all just trying to let Mike take it slow. 

It was almost endearingly thoughtful. 

More importantly, it helped. Mike still spent the early hours of his morning on edge - but eventually, it had less to do with the talking animatronics, and more to do with William. Especially when Toy Bonnie decided staying 'awake' was too risky and he powered down to wait out the last little while before opening. Because then it was just Mike and his thoughts as he waited for his father to show. 

As the day's opening loomed closer without any sign of William, however, Mike felt his anxiety kick back into high gear. The idea that his father would be so agitated that he skipped off work made Mike want to sob. Mike pushed forward, though, best he could - he opened the restaurant, began his shift for real, and watched the clock with an anxious eye. When eight-thirty rolled around and there was still no sign of William, Mike knew he really wouldn't be in that day. Mike didn't know what his father might be doing instead, but his mind unhelpfully filled in the blanks with images of awful punishments and plans for abandonment. 

Then, with a sudden cold chill of panic, Mike thought of Elizabeth. While he immediately made his way to the office, fumbling badly with the phone once there, he berated himself - why hadn't he thought of her earlier? Why hadn't he checked on her immediately? At the very least, he should have considered what William's foul mood might have meant for her. The number entered, Mike pressed the trembling receiver against his ear and waited with bated breath for an answer. 

"Henry speaking, how can I help you?" Henry sounded poise as usual, and the lack of worry in his voice helped calm Mike a little. Mike twirled the phone cord tightly around a finger and swallowed. 

"Yeah, uh, Hi Henry. It's Mike. Is - is Lizzy there with you today?" 

"Yes, your father dropped her off this morning, as usual," Henry answered, sounding confused, "is everything alright?" 

"Yeah, he's just not here, is all," Mike said, feeling his chest loosen a bit further still, "Uh, does Lizzy seem herself?" 

"Bubbly as ever. She and Charlie are playing some game in Charlie's room as we speak. Nothing seems amiss." Henry paused for a minute, while Mike tried to gather himself, the last few minutes having left him feeling dizzy. "Mike? Did something happen? Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," Mike said, clearing his throat and repeating the word when it barely squeaked out. "Yeah, I just. Um. We had a little argument, is all. Then when he wasn't here, I thought…" His breath caught, and he shoved through it to hurriedly add, "maybe he was so upset that something happened. It's silly, but I was worried about a car accident or something, you know? That's all I meant."

"If I had to guess, he went back home to work in his workshop. That's his go-to when he needs some distance. I'll give him a call, though, just to check in," Henry said, his voice still quiet and calm, "You asked after Lizzy - do you think she's in some kind of danger?" 

"No," Mike answered, the word slipping out before he'd even thought about it. He tightened his grip on the receiver and took a breath. He hadn't meant to say it - but it had to be true. William hadn't even really hurt Mike - Mike had just thought his father  _ might.  _ It could have been imagined - it probably  _ was  _ imagined. Mike's mind had been scrambled since finding Sam, and he'd been angry too, and yes his father had been especially furious but surely he'd never  _ hurt  _ Mike. And even if he would, there was no reason to believe he'd touch a hair on Elizabeth's head. 

"Are you sure?" Henry pressed, and Mike had another realization. Even if he  _ wasn't  _ sure, telling Henry would almost certainly make things worse, not better. Henry was not Mike's friend - he was William's. 

"I'm sure," Mike said firmly, "like I said, I just wanted to be sure they were both okay. If Lizzy's with you and you saw dad this morning, then, I won't worry. Unless he doesn't answer your call, then maybe let me know."

"Alright then," Henry answered, "so long as you're sure." A heartbeat passed, and Mike opened his mouth to say his goodbyes, but Henry continued before he could. "While I have you Mike, I was wondering if you'd like to come over this evening, after your shift. There's something I'd like to run past you - I've got tea and cookies to offer, if that helps."

"Oh," Mike said, caught off guard, his thoughts immediately spinning again as he wondered what Henry wanted. The older man did this on occasion, and usually the chats were brief and well-meaning. Considering why Mike had called, though, Mike couldn't help but worry he'd just opened a can of worms he hadn't meant to. Realizing that Henry was still waiting for an answer, Mike cleared his throat. "I mean, okay, sure. I'll be there."

"Wonderful. I'll let you know if I have trouble getting in contact with William. Otherwise, I'll see you tonight, alright?" 

"Alright. Bye, Henry."

"Goodbye, Mike."

* * *

Mike sat in the chair stiffly, his hands wrung together, as Henry bustled around the kitchen. He tried not to watch Henry's every move - but it was difficult, when it was all Mike wanted to do. He was lost, once again, in racing thoughts when a sudden tug on his arm caught his attention. He looked down at his side, and there was Charlie. She was already in her pajamas, and Mike had to assume she was meant to be in bed. At her bright-eyed grin, though, he couldn't help but smile back. Without warning, Charlie thrust a stuffed animal into Mike's hands - and he scrambled to catch it when she promptly let go. He grunted in effort when she immediately began to climb up as well. It took a second of struggle before both Charlie and her toy were safely secured on his lap. 

_ "Mike!"  _ She exclaimed, beaming at him as she signed,  _ "look at my new turtle!"  _ At her command, Mike lifted the stuffed turtle and turned it this way and that. It was very soft, slightly fuzzy, and a pair of giant and glittering eyes looked out at them invitingly. 

"They're a cutie," He told her, "they got a name yet?" 

_ "Lieutenant,"  _ she spelled out, and Mike lifted an eyebrow. 

"That's a big word for a little girl like you," He told her, "and an even bigger name for a stuffed turtle."

_ "You don't like it?"  _

"Oh, of course I do," Mike reassured, smiling, "I was just surprised. It's a very good name, Charlie. I think Lieutenant is very lucky to have such a good friend as you."

"Alright, Char-bear," Henry interrupted as he set a pair of mugs at the table, "go on back to bed." Immediately, Charlie pouted. She took the turtle, hugged it tight, then snuggled a little closer to Mike. She didn't seem to notice how still he'd gone at her open defiance. 

_ "But I wanna stay with Mike,"  _ Charlie argued,  _ "I wanna tell him more about Lieutenant!"  _

"And I'm sure Mike would love to hear it," Henry said, smiling as he slipped into his chair. "But he and I have some very boring adult stuff to talk about and you, little miss, should have been asleep half an hour ago. We'll make sure Mike comes back over soon, okay? Then you can tell him everything."

With a long-suffering sigh, Charlie signed a quick  _ "Okay," _ and slipped back down from Mike's lap. She turned to look up at him, and once again he couldn't help but return her bright smile. It melted away the worry he'd felt on her behalf.  _ "Goodnight Mike! I'll tell you about Lieutenant another time, okay?"  _

"Sounds great Charlie," Mike answered, "sweet dreams kiddo." With a wave, she took off for her room, Lieutenant tucked firmly under her arm. Mike watched her go and, only once she was out of sight, turned to look at Henry. He, too, had been watching Charlie, and when they met eyes Henry's smile didn't waver. 

Quiet fell between them as Henry picked up his mug and leaned back a bit in his chair. He sipped at his drink, and Mike mimicked him. He assumed Henry was waiting to be sure Charlie didn't come back. As for Mike, well, he was more than happy to wait for Henry to lead their discussion. 

"Did William ever end up contacting you today?" Henry finally asked, and Mike immediately shook his head. The day had passed without a word from William - Mike had been responsible for closing the restaurant up alone. "Well," Henry continued, "he was at home when I called. It seems I was right and he chose to do some work today - though what project he's on now, I couldn't say." The man lifted his cups to his lips and took another brief sip. "Do you want to talk about what happened, Mike?" 

"Nothing happened," Mike answered immediately, "just a bit of an argument, like I said." Remembering something his father had said often over the course of Mike's life, he added, "families argue sometimes. It's no big deal."

"Not quite like you two," Henry muttered in return. His volume was normal as he continued. "Alright then, that's your prerogative. I just hope you know you  _ could,  _ if you wanted to. I'd be all ears." Henry set his drink down and reached up to cup his hands around his ears - making them suddenly look bigger. Something, Mike was sure, that often got a laugh out of the girls. But even Mike knew that his resulting stare was hard. 

"Sorry," Henry said, putting his hands down, "habit - Charlie loves that bit. Is your tea alright?" 

"It's good," Mike answered, taking a sip at the mention. It was bitter and almost too hot to taste - exactly as he preferred it. He might have been touched, except he knew Henry's practice at brewing wasn't for him. Tea preference was something Mike and William shared. 

"I'm glad," Henry said. Quiet slipped between them for a long moment before he spoke again. "I wanted you to come over so I could run something by you. I called an old friend of mine," he continued, crossing one leg over a knee, "they own an automotive manufacturing plant, and as it turns out, they're hiring. It'd be a lot of heavy work, but good pay - something to build up your savings until you could find a more fitting job. They're hiring - and they're interested in you. You'll still have to interview, of course, but I've no doubt you'd ace it."

"Wh - You found a job for me?" Mike asked, confused, "Henry, I have a job."

"I know you do," Henry agreed with a heavy sigh, "and this is all only if you want, of course. But Mike…believe it or not - and I understand if you don't - I'm not blind. I didn't see things nearly soon enough, true, but I see them now. I've seen them for a year or two, even. William is my friend, and I hate to speak ill of him, but the truth is…he should never have been a father. He's abusive - "

"That seems like a strong word -" 

"He's abusive," Henry cut in firmly, "there's no gray area about it. But because it isn't physical, my ability to help is limited. I can't just call the protective services and hope it works out, because it will only make it worse for you and your sister. Things are easier with Lizzy - babysitting her, giving her a friend, showing her as much affection as she'll let me show - these things can help her. It can't save her entirely, but it can help. I can only hope I can continue to guide her, and help her get out on her own when it's time. But you - Mike, I owe you a deep apology. By the time I really caught on, you were already so accustomed to your way of life. Already forging ahead, working towards your own independence. Much as I may want to, I can't babysit you and help the sting go away." Henry paused and took a breath.

"I don't think this is the right path for you, Mike. So long as you work under William, so long as you let him in your life, he'll keep ahold of you. With a new job, unconnected to Freddy's entirely - maybe you can finally get that full independence you deserve." Henry smiled softly, and at the look Mike had to glance away. "It's up to you, and I won't push, but at least think about it, please."

"Why would you think I want to be that independent?" Mike asked. He sat his cup down and pushed his seat back. As he got to his feet, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears - something was twisting at his guts. "I'm grateful he hired me," Mike continued, though the words sounded far away, "it's nice to work for the family business. I'm not gonna walk away from that - especially not after only a month." He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, and he continued before Henry could respond. "Thanks for watching out for me, but I'm satisfied with where I am. Thanks for the tea, too - but I, uh, I gotta go. I just remembered, at home, I gotta…" Mike's words trailed off as the excuse wouldn't come. 

"Here," Henry said, getting to his feet as well. He went to the counter, then turned for Mike. He stopped a short distance from the younger man and held out a sheet of paper. Mike looked down at it, then wiped his hand at his jeans before reaching out to take it. It was a job application - and a sticky note with contact information was attached. 

"It's up to you," Henry said, "but take this, just in case you change your mind. Want me to pour some tea into a tumbler for you?" At the shake of Mike's head, Henry nodded. "Okay. Drive safe going home, alright?" 

"Alright," Mike said. He turned to leave, using all of his willpower not to sprint out the door. He didn't even understand why he  _ wanted  _ to, in the first place. What was wrong with him? With his hand wrapped around the door handle, Mike paused and glanced down at the paper, then over his shoulder at Henry. The older man was just watching him, a soft smile on his face that widened a little when he saw Mike look. 

"Thank you, Henry," Mike said, uncertain what he was even thanking the man for. 

"Anytime, Mike. Goodnight."


	7. Mangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike makes a new friend, and experiences what one might call a Rollercoaster of emotions.

When Mike walked into the restaurant the next morning, Jeremy wasn't waiting for him. With the teenager nowhere in sight, Mike felt his pulse start to race so suddenly it left him dizzy. He'd already imagined multiple scenarios - all involving finding Jeremy's body - and was moving for the hall himself when Jeremy finally came walking down it. Mike's relief was brief, and more than a little confused, because Jeremy wasn't alone. 

That in itself wasn't unusual, as it could have been any of the three Toys. But they were on stage, and had been still up until Mike walked in. Mike didn't really know the animatronic with Jeremy very well - he knew of their existence, but it was the first time he'd seen them outside of their usual home in Kids' Cove. What was especially strange about the animatronic with Jeremy, though, was the way they were wrapped around his shoulders. They were a little too big for the wrap to be comfortable - a short segment of loose endoskeleton drug along the floor behind them. Their vulpine head was laid on top of Jeremy's, while the rest of their endoskeleton looped around his shoulders and down his body. They looked - as much as an animatronic could - very comfortable. Jeremy, on the other hand, looked somewhat less so. 

"Mike, this is Mangle. Mangle, this is Mike," Jeremy said, once he'd gotten closer to Mike. He gestured between them with his hands, and at his words, Mangle lifted their head. Then, they stretched their neck out - their body barely moving at all - to get a closer look at Mike. He, meanwhile, did his best not to grimace away. Mangle opened their mouth, and what came from it was a variable mix of short and slightly longer beeps. Thanks to television and radio, Mike vaguely recognized it as morse code. 

"They say nice to meet you," Jeremy said, "and sorry, for not saying hello before. They don't get out of the cove much."

"You know morse code?" Mike asked. 

"Yeah. Just a weird little passion thing I picked up a couple of years back. Doesn't usually have any use but, hey, it's a talking piece. And now, I guess it helps me communicate with this sentient robot. So, that's cool."

"How is every new morning stranger than the last?" Mike asked in a half-mutter, before turning his attention back to Mangle. "Right. Sorry, Mangle. It's…nice to meet you too." Mangle's muzzle shifted, giving Mike something approaching a smile. Another series of dots and dashes escaped them. 

"They want to know if they can stay with you for a little while, since I'll be leaving," Jeremy said, "they've been like this pretty much all night, by the way. Not as heavy as they look, and they don't seem to have an angry bone - er, pole, in their body."

Mike eyed the animatronic fox, then looked over towards the stage. The other three toys were watching and, at his look, Toy Chica lifted a hand and gave him a thumbs up. He wanted to say no, opened his mouth to say no, but somehow, no wasn't what came out. 

"Okay, but only until like, six-thirty. Then you have to go back to your Cove," Mike said instead. Immediately, Mangle began to untangle from Jeremy and, in a short walk Mike would describe as 'spider-like,' made their way over to Mike instead. As Mangle crawled up along his body, Mike stood ramrod straight and still, barely daring to breathe. 

Mike had held a snake before, had relished in the feeling of power beneath its scales. The moving sensation of Mangle wrapping gently around his body was almost like a snake - but the cool, unyielding hardness of their metallic bones was very different. Still, it came with that same sort of tension - the knowledge that, if they wanted to, they could crush Mike in their hold. Them being an animatronic only made him feel that fear more keenly. 

Like with Jeremy, once Mangle was settled they laid their head atop Mike's. He grimaced, and waited, but Mangle simply sat there, and the weight of their head on his was soft and careful. After another long few seconds, Jeremy grinned and gave Mike a thumbs up. 

"See? It's not so bad. It's a good look for you, too - or, it will be, when you stop looking like they're going to kill you at any moment." Jeremy paused, allowing Mangle to let off a few more tones. "They said to relax - they promise you're safe."

"I'll try," Mike muttered, "just, don't move around a ton. It's nothing personal, just…you're a lot stronger than me. It's hard to get past that. Especially considering, well…" He let the thought drift off, his gaze going towards Jeremy. They locked eyes, and after a heartbeat Mike had to look away. Jeremy didn't seem  _ accusing,  _ necessarily. But, suddenly, Mike was sure Jeremy knew exactly what had happened to the last night guard. Mike waited for an accusation, or at least a question - it wouldn't be out of place, considering the things Mike had  _ not  _ told the teen - but instead, the moment passed in awkward silence. At least, until Mangle spoke again. 

"They understand," Jeremy translated without missing a beat, "and if you want them to get off of you, you only have to ask."

"'s alright," Mike responded, taking a deep breath that seemed to chase some of the dizziness in his head away. "If we're all going to be friends, I have to get past it all, right? This is certainly one way to do that."

"Would it help if I hung around?" Jeremy asked. 

"Yeah, probably. But you should get home and sleep. I'll be fine - it's good for me, or, something. Probably."

"Alright, if you say so," Jeremy said. Still, he stood there for a moment, watching as Mike gathered himself. Finally, he turned to leave, lifting a hand in farewell as he continued. "Okay. Er, good luck, remember they'll get off if you ask, and I guess I'll see you tomorrow." He left not long after, and Mike turned just slightly in place to wave and watch him go. With another deep breath - with which he felt his core unravel a little more - Mike looked upward. As if to let him see them, Mangle lifted their head, then looked back down at Mike. 

"Can you stay steady while I check things over?" He asked. Mangle opened their mouth to respond, then seemed to think better of it and closed their mouth again with a slight creak of hinges. Then, they nodded. 

"'Kay," Mike said, deciding to let himself have one more deep, bracing breath, before he began to walk. Mangle didn't stay still - they shifted a little with every movement Mike made, allowing him the normal, full range of motion. Mike stayed acutely aware of the animatronic through the next twenty or so minutes - but it wasn't long at all before he stopped feeling a jolt of fear at every one of their movements. By the time Mike noticed the clock ticking threateningly past six-thirty, he even felt a little bad knowing they'd have to go. 

"Alright Mangle, you really have to go back to Kid's Cove now," Mike said as he reached up and patted their muzzle. His hand was already back at his side by the time he realized what he'd just done, and that he'd done it without hesitation. He breathed through the jolt of adrenaline that realization gave him, then held still as Mangle began to climb down him without argument. Once in front of him, Mangle turned and looked up at Mike, something expectant in their gaze. With a swallow, Mike slowly reached his hand out and, with a sudden jerk of motion born from determination, he laid his hand on the top of Mangle's head. They stayed like that for a long few heartbeats, and then Mangle turned and scuttled away. Mike watched them go until they vanished into the hallway, feeling something strange he couldn't quite put a name to. 

"Great!" Toy Bonnie's sudden and rather close voice cut through Mike's attention like a shot. Mike jumped and spun, and couldn't help but glare up at the rabbit. "I wasn't going to say anything, cause I know you have...well. You know. Issues. But since you seem so comfortable with Mangle -" The rabbit thrust his arm out closer to Mike, who pulled back quickly at the sudden movement. Toy Bonnie held his arm there pointedly, and when Mike finally looked down at it he noted a crusty, beige-colored stain marring the otherwise pristine blue of Toy Bonnie's shell. "Can you get this off of me?" Toy Bonnie continued. Mike looked up at the rabbit's face again, then let out a soft laugh, the sound escaping him like a sigh.

"Yeah, okay. Get on stage and power yourself down, though. In case we get company anytime soon. I'll go get a rag."

"Yes!" Toy Bonnie exclaimed, even as he turned to walk to the stage, following Mike's orders. Mike couldn't help but smile a little, all at once feeling lighter than usual. True to his word, he went to fetch a rag and some water. He was officially, it seemed, back on animatronic cleaning duty. 

* * *

Mike didn't spend a ton of time with Toy Bonnie - he wasn't sure how much more he had to spend. The lightness from before didn't stick for long - every second he spent on the stage was a second closer to William's probable arrival. Or not. Mike wasn't really sure which scenario was worse - William showing up, or William skipping a second day of work. 

Mike had barely just finished with Toy Bonnie, had managed to get off the stage and put the rag away, when the sound of the door opening made him freeze in place. He tried to brush it off by quickly reaching out and grabbing a plate, which he shifted around - even though it'd already been perfectly centered on the table. Mike looked towards the door - it was a quick look, a recognition, and he waited for William to meet his eyes for a second before looking away again. Mike didn't say anything - not unusual, it was usually the better idea to let William speak first in most situations. His father didn't speak either, though, he simply moved on and began his own pre-opening work. 

It struck away the last of Mike's cheer and left rolling nausea in its place, the feeling of which followed him through a good chunk of the morning. It wasn't until nearly lunchtime, when William all but barked at Mike to come and help him don the Spring Bonnie suit, that the tension began to ease. It didn't make a lot of sense, even to Mike - the idea of following his father into a dark, closed off room that also happened to house the one animatronic Mike feared more than anything should have made him more anxious. But something about the order felt normal - and when the situation passed without further incident, Mike felt himself relax even further. William, it seemed, was happy enough to pretend their 'argument' had never happened. Mike was more than happy to do the same - or, at least, pretend to. Not that he'd really ever forget. 

It was sometime after lunch when Mike heard a yelp, followed by a child bursting into noisy tears. Concerned, Mike followed the noise back into the Kid's Cove, where he found a little boy sobbing with his hand tucked to his chest. One little girl was patting his shoulder in a vague attempt at comfort, but otherwise the other children were watching him wearily. Mike's eyes found Mangle - but they were lying on the floor, still and quiet, surrounded in a scattering of their own parts. 

"Hey kiddo, you alright?" Mike asked, crouching by the crying boy. With a sniffle, he looked up at Mike, then held his hand away from his chest so Mike could see. Half expecting pouring blood or broken bones, Mike was relieved to see only a small blood blister. Most likely, the boy had gotten his finger pinched in a bit of endoskeleton or something. With a soft breath, Mike smiled. Before he could reassure the boy, however, a new voice broke in. 

"Gabe? Gabe, are you alright?" A man swooped suddenly in between the two of them and picked the boy up, bundling Gabe tightly to him even while he all but wrenched his hand around to see. The sudden motion startled the boy all over again, and he burst into a new round of noisy tears. Nerves tingling, Mike stood up - just in time for the man to whip around to face him. "Look at this! He's injured! What kind of place are you running here?" 

"Sir, it's just a little pinch - probably a piece of Mangle just bent wrong and -" 

"This should never have happened! I knew it, I knew it was a bad idea to bring him here - where's your manager? I need to cancel our party tomorrow. And I've half a mind to -" 

"I'm afraid all cancelations must be made seven days in advance," William's sudden voice was as calm as ever. Mike looked over and spotted his father standing just inside the doorway. He still wore the Spring Bonnie suit - but he had the head tucked carefully under an arm. The man whipped around to face William instead, and it seemed William's often placating tone did nothing to soothe the man's agitation. 

"Excuse me?" The man demanded, "you  _ will  _ be canceling the party and refunding our money - after this, frankly, you're lucky if I don't sue."

"Sue?" William asked, the corner of his mouth twitching, "was there even any blood, Michael?" 

"No, it's just a pinch. There's a little blood blister, maybe," Mike answered. 

"No court will take you seriously, but if you'd honestly like to waste your money on legal fees, that's your prerogative," William continued, "I still will not be refunding your party. Now, you can show up or not - we will be sure it's decorated for you - but there will be no cancelations and no refunds."

The man sputtered for a minute, holding the boy a bit tighter - making him struggle slightly against his father's grasp. Then, with a 'tsk' and a huff, the man gestured with one hand down at Mangle. 

"Fine," he practically spat, "but I want this thing put away far from the kids. It's obviously a danger."

"Very well," William agreed easily. With yet another angry huff, the man walked around William, muttering something under his breath as he left. 

"It really was just a pinch," Mike said, once the man had gone, "kid could have accidentally pinched himself with his own fingers or something."

"Yes, well, some people are always watching for the chance to make or save a quick buck. Usually, they're just bluffing. Stand calm in their bluster, and they'll generally stand down." William looked over at Mike and, after a heartbeat, gestured down at Mangle. "Be sure they're put away before opening tomorrow. The safe room will do just fine."

"Okay," Mike agreed. With one last nod, William turned and left the cove, putting the Spring Bonnie head back on as he went. As if a spell was broken, the other children returned to their playing and chatter and, soon enough, the room had devolved into its usual noise. With a breath of his own, feeling a little calmer still, Mike knelt next to Mangle. Carefully, he bundled them up into his arms - noting how they slyly held on to him, even if it wasn't obvious to anyone else. Immediately, there was a chorus of 'awws' from the small crowd of children. Shifting Mangle so Mike could see them, he gave them a smile. 

"I know, I know, but poor Mangle here needs a break anyway. They'll be back in a few days, okay? Everyone say 'bye, bye, Mangle!'" At his urging, the kids called out a farewell, and Mike left the room with Mangle in tow. Once they were both out of view, Mangle became a little more animated. By the time they got to the safe room, Mangle had shifted so that their head was lying on Mike's again. When Mike reached out and opened the door to the dark room, Mangle let out a soft series of beeps. Mike immediately reached up and laid his hand in their muzzle. 

"It's just temporary," He told them quietly, "you can leave the room tonight, as long as you make sure Jeremy puts you back in. Just until the party's over, okay?" Mangle didn't respond for a long few seconds, but then Mike actually felt them relax and nod. "Thanks Mangle," He said with a soft smile. Then, with a thought, he quickly added. "Make sure Jeremy doesn't actually go in here. And that he latches the door shut when he's done. Okay? That's really important." The soft, static-filled trill that Mangle gave seemed like an agreement. Then, they slipped away from Mike and scuttled into the room, promptly vanishing from sight. Mike waited until he heard their scuttling pause, waited longer to be sure there were no further noises of distress, and then finally shut the door. 

The rest of the day passed without incident and without much more interaction with William. Even at the end of the day, not much passed between them, and they went their separate ways without so much as a goodbye. Silence was a favored weapon of William's - but, all the same, Mike was too tired by the end of the day to feel much more about it than soft dread. 

When Mike arrived home that evening, his eyes were quickly drawn to the application Henry had given him. It was sitting on the counter, in plain view, tempting Mike with its presence. He ignored it for awhile - fell into his usual after work patterns of changing into comfortable clothes and allowing himself to fully unwind. As he prepped dinner for himself, though, his eyes kept going to the unassuming little paper. In a fit of sudden bravery and inspiration, he grabbed a pen, pulled the paper closer, and began to write. 

He only got part of the way through it when his motivation left him as quickly as it had come. It'd be better to just throw it away - avoid the trap, avoid the consequences, stay far away from anything that would shake up William's beloved status quo. Who was Mike kidding, anyway? Job hunting had never turned out well, and he was lucky his father had acquiesced and provided a position for him. With a sigh, Mike threw the pen back in a drawer and shoved the paper away. 

Even as Mike finished up his night with a bit of dinner, then TV, and then finally bed, the application stayed on the counter. Because, in the end, no matter what Mike told himself, he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. 

At least, not yet. 


	8. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birthday party doesn't go quite as planned, and William and Mike have a little talk.

Mike supposed that while he was enjoying the company of the animatronics the next morning, he should have been wondering what the universe would have in store for him. He didn't consider it, though, didn't even think to worry about what would come. He just enjoyed the early morning and his growing comfort with the sentient robots. His father arrived with a casual greeting and the usual critical eye, but as the restaurant and its current party favors were acceptable, he moved on. Through the morning, he was a bit more talkative than the day before. It was the usual fare - random comments about his life, small updates on Elizabeth and her schooling, and the occasional dig at Mike's character. Never a pleasant sort of conversation, but at that point Mike was willing to weather it if it meant a return to normality. 

Then Gabe and his father arrived, and the atmosphere grew heavy. The child didn't seem to notice, given he was caught up in the pretty colors and fanfare that were all for him on his special day. His father, however, made no secret of his continued displeasure. He was all criticisms, critical eyes, and snide comments. Mike had the fleeting thought that, if those hadn't been aimed at William and his business, the two men might have gotten along swimmingly. As it was, William weathered the insults in his usual way - with his own calm, snide remarks. Mike, meanwhile, just kept his head down and let the men deal with each other. 

It became easier once the rest of the party - not to mention other customers - arrived. Then, there was an entire hoard of children and parents to watch, and Mike got caught up in the amplified duties of his job. He asked numerous children to please not climb on the stage, or to hang from rope blocking them from the stage. He answered questions and fulfilled requests - tried to be patient, even though fetching fresh drinks wasn't  _ really  _ part of his job. He jumped between the animatronics as they wandered the floor, and had to fight off the kids trying to climb on  _ them,  _ too. It was chaotic, and loud, and exhausting. His only break, really, was the twenty or so minutes William spent entertaining the kids as Spring Bonnie. That, at least, kept their attention for a while. 

By the time the party calmed and folks began taking their children home, Mike felt like he could sleep for a year. He was sweaty, sore, and tired - mentally, he urged them to leave faster, so he could help clean up and go home. The universe, however, seemed to have other plans. As the crowd thinned, Gabe's father went looking for the birthday boy. By the time he was able to swallow his pride and come to the employees for help, he was panicking. Gabe, it seemed, was nowhere to be found. 

At William's word, the handful of Fazbear employees jumped into action. They began to comb the restaurant - searching the ballpit, behind machines, on stages, anywhere the boy could be hiding. While Gabe's father walked around, alternating between scolding the boy for hiding and begging for him to come out, William snatched at Mike's arm. 

"Go and check the safe room," William said, "likely it wouldn't hurt to look in the office while you're there. I will check the other areas of the back. Be thorough, Michael."

Mike's protest died in his throat, as they often did. He wanted to ask why  _ he  _ had to 'thoroughly check' the safe room - but he didn't really need to ask. He was well aware why. William was never willing to pass up an opportunity to agitate Mike, after all. So, instead, Mike swallowed back his argument, nodded, and headed for the back. He peeked into the office, but was entirely unsurprised to find it empty. He couldn't imagine he'd start getting that lucky now, after eighteen years of the opposite. 

Nausea rolled in Mike's stomach as he made his way to the safe room. He only felt worse as he unlatched the door, ducked in, and flashed his light over the pitch-black room. Immediately visible, Fredbear was where he always was - sat against the wall and staring ahead blankly. Spring Bonnie, no doubt, would be in  _ his  _ usual place in the far back corner. Heart beating loudly in his ears, Mike began his search. If he flashed his light over to check on Fredbear every few seconds, well, who could really blame him? 

"Gabe? Are you back here?" Mike asked, his voice little more than a whisper. He repeated the quiet call as he walked the room, using his flashlight to look at the shelves and into the corners - anywhere a child might think to hide. Suddenly, Mike saw a pair of glinting eyes in a flash of light, and he couldn't help the soft yelp that escaped him. He lit up the eyes fully - only to see Mangle peering at him, their head tilted in curiosity. With a heavy breath and a hand to his chest, Mike walked closer to the fox. When they met, he reached out and pet their head with a nervous laugh. 

"You about scared the shit out of me, Mangle," Mike said as he scratched lightly at their ear, "Hey, I don't suppose you've seen a kid back here? Or heard one go past the room, or anything?" Mangle tilted their head curiously, and a quick sound escaped them - which was almost immediately drowned out by another, much deeper voice. 

"He is not back here."

The voice reverberated through the air so strongly that Mike felt the vibration in his ears. Or, perhaps, that was the stuttering of his heart as it threatened to stop. With a gasp so strong it hurt, Mike whipped around and promptly let out a strangled scream. He tried to throw himself back, but caught his ankle on some wayward part of Mangle. It tripped him, and Mike spilled back to the ground, his flashlight flying from his hand, clacking to the ground, and skittering violently away. With harsh, sharp breaths, Mike turned to his stomach and began to crawl along the ground with clawing, desperate movements. He didn't get far, though, before something grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him up and away from the floor. Mike wanted to lash out and fight - but instead he felt every limb freeze in place. 

He stayed that way, even as Fredbear turned Mike to face him. The giant animatronic was no longer perched against the wall - he was standing and moving, his eyes now keenly aware and focused right on Mike. He lifted Mike even higher up, high enough that Mike was forced to look right into Fredbear's flat blue eyes. There was awkwardness in the way Mike was dangling by his own shirt - but it was difficult to care much about that when terror was running cold through every vein. 

"My apologies," Fredbear spoke again, the timbre of his voice echoing to Mike's very core. "I did not intend to startle you so. Are you injured?" When Mike shook his head - the only response he could give - Fredbear continued. "I am glad to hear it. I am going to set you down now - can you stand?" Mike wasn't even sure. When Fredbear attempted to put Mike down, the human found that his legs just wouldn't listen. Fredbear stopped lowering Mike just before he nearly stamped the ground with Mike's body. "Come now Michael. Put your feet under you - there you go. There. Better?" And then, somehow, Mike was standing of his own volition again. He supposed that  _ was  _ better, so he nodded once more. 

"The child is not here. I very much doubt you will find him - and you should, I think, stop looking."

"He's...he's not here?" Mike repeated, the words heavy on his tongue. When Fredbear nodded, Mike couldn't help but grimace at the movement. He took a small step back, and his own movement caused Fredbear to tilt his head slightly. 

"I mean you no harm," Fredbear said, "you do not have to fear me, Michael."

"You - you're talking."

"Yes."

"You're alive."

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"You - I -" Mike unconsciously raised his hands to rub at his eyes as he felt sudden tears prick them. They were bundled in a leaky, hot core in his chest, threatening to burst like a dam if he let them. "I'm sorry," He managed to croak. At a sudden whirring of motors, he ripped his hands away. When he saw Fredbear moving, Mike backed up a little further, heart stammering along as he waited for the inevitable attack. Mike looked at Mangle - but they stayed where they were, seemingly unwilling to interfere. Despite Mike's fear, however, Fredbear only crouched, bringing him closer to Mike's level.

"I know you are," Fredbear told him, "but I hold no ill will towards you, youngling. Alright?" 

Mike nodded, without thinking much of it, and then immediately shook his head instead. Fredbear's response was just a deep chuckle. He stood again, and Mike shrank back even further, without even really meaning to. He wasn't especially tall to begin with, and Fredbear was  _ massive.  _

"I understand," Fredbear said, "I hope you will give me the opportunity to show you I am a friendly soul. For the moment, however, you should return to the outside. Before they feel you have been gone too long. I will walk away now, back to my spot - take a moment to compose yourself. It will not do for you to go out there looking so pale. Do not forget your flashlight." With that, just as he'd said and without any fanfare, Fredbear turned and began to walk away. 

Mike watched him go for a long moment, his heart still pounding in his ears. Eventually, he found himself taking a breath, and then another. He couldn't call himself calm - he still half expected Fredbear to rush him from the dark. But Mike knew the animatronic was right, too - if he walked out looking like he'd seen a ghost, he'd attract all sorts of attention. Especially when everyone was so frantically searching for a missing child. 

Mike might not have been able to manage it, if not for years of laying on a poker face specifically to use against his father. It was a matter of pushing the experience to the deepest part of his mind, where it could wait for a moment alone to unleash itself again. It helped when Mangle suddenly bumped him - his flashlight clutched tight in their jaws. With what he hoped was a thankful smile and not a grimace, Mike took the flashlight. With his other hand, he reached out and ran his fingers up and down Mangle's muzzle. He let himself stay that way for a moment or two more, feeling the blood return to his face and his heart calm a little further. Then, finally, he walked for the door. Mangle scuttled by his side, their companionship a bracing presence. As promised, Mike made it to the exit unaccosted by Fredbear or any other surprises. 

William gave him a keen, scrutinizing look when Mike returned, but the intensity of it faded when Mike frowned and shook his head. Then, William's look shifted to something more pensive and, perhaps, a tad regretful. As if the whole room had been waiting for Mike's verdict, a round of concerned mutterings broke out among the remainder of the patrons. Gabe's father had lost all of his bluster and, now, just looked plain lost. William went to him, laid a hand on his shoulder, and they began to talk. 

The rest of Mike's time at Freddy's that evening was spent in a whirlwind of questions and people. The police were called, people were interrogated, and through it all Mike's thoughts bounced. If he wasn't thinking of Fredbear and his apparent sentience, he was thinking about the missing Gabe. And, by the end of the night, the boy  _ was  _ officially declared missing. He wasn't found within Freddy's, and no one seemed to have seen anything suspicious through the party. Mike heard the mutterings among other parents as they waited to be released, but in truth, he'd already had the thought himself. 

One missing child was an unfortunate tragedy. Two, however, was a pattern. The thought followed Mike into his dreams that night, leaving him with a nightmare wherein he frantically searched the Fazbear restaurant for Elizabeth, all while sharp-fanged creatures chased him in the dark. 

* * *

Mike's small apartment was more than a little problematic. The paint in the halls were chipping, it almost always smelled like smoke, and his water had to run for almost ten minutes before it got warm - and then only stayed that way for less than that. On top of that, his nextdoor neighbors had a habit of setting their smoke alarm off, while the couple beneath him chose the oddest - and often least convenient - times to be intimate with each other. 

Nevertheless, Mike always felt a little of the world's weight melt off his shoulders when he got to his door. It wasn't much of a home, but it was his - if anything, the mess was a blessing. William didn't visit often at all, despite having a key, as he considered the dingy building too far below him. It didn't keep him away  _ always,  _ but it usually did the job. 

So when Mike woke the next morning to the obvious sounds of someone in his apartment, he didn't know what to think. For a second, he thought someone had broken in. Then, with a jolt of adrenaline, he sat up and looked at his clock, far more terrified that he'd find he'd slept in and that his father had come to fetch him. When he saw that it was only four-thirty in the morning, he relaxed a little. Only a little, though - it didn't mean that it  _ wasn't  _ his father. 

Mike grabbed the thick, heavy, Fazbear-branded flashlight he kept by his bed, clicked it on, and made his way towards his kitchen. In the light of his kitchen, a not insignificant part of Mike was disappointed to see it was  _ not  _ a burglar. It was, as feared, William. The man was leaning back against the counter, his eyes roaming over a piece of paper in his hands. When he heard Mike click off the flashlight, he looked over, and the look in his eyes pinned Mike in place. William pushed himself away from the counter and walked over to Mike, who could do little else but watch. William stopped a short distance away and held the paper up. Mike recognized it, of course - the application he'd started filling out for the automotive plant. 

"So, what's this then?" William asked, his voice soft. Low, and already dangerous, and it started a loop of images in Mike's head of a few nights prior, when William had wrapped his hand around Mike's throat. 

"An application," Mike said, speaking carefully so as to not stutter in his nervousness, "Henry told me about this good opportunity -" 

"So, my business isn't good enough for you, then? Working for the business you could very well  _ own  _ one day isn't a good enough opportunity?" 

"Of course it is, I just -" 

"Standard Automotive," William intoned, holding the paper out to read off it, "application for hire.  _ Automotive,  _ Michael? Is this some secret aspiration of yours that you've never mentioned? Do tell me if it is, as I wouldn't want to be unsupportive. No?" 

"They pay well and -" 

"Oh, so it's about pay? So you've decided to apply for a new job, rather than simply ask your father for a raise? Am I really so unreasonable?" 

"No dad, of course not, I -" 

"Think me an idiot, clearly," William cut in, and with that Mike let his mouth snap shut. William straightened a little further, and Mike shrank back. He'd always had a healthy fear of his father, especially when William was in a mood. Something had shifted, though, and the fear Mike felt now was different. Deeper. 

"One little tiff, and you're ready to go running," William said, "one small spat - something all families have, time to time - and you're going to tuck your tail and flee. Ready to leave behind everything good you have - your sister and I, the family business, the life I have tried to build for us all - because you and I argued. Is that it?"

Mike shook his head, the only response he dared give, and the smile William gave him in response was lined with teeth. 

"No," William said softly, "of course not. Because you're not stupid either, are you, Michael?" He reached out, and grabbed Mike's chin in a deceptively gentle hold. "Surely, you were just practicing filling out an application. The ability to fill out a job application is an admirable skill to have, I couldn't possibly think poorly of that."

"Yes sir, that's all it was," Mike answered softly, a shiver traveling down his spine. William's smile grew a little sharper as he let go of Mike's chin. "I just filled it out for fun, really," Mike added, and his father nodded in response, the movement almost approving. 

"Yes, well, a little practice never hurt anyone," William said, even as he closed his fist, the paper crumpling violently in his grasp. He tucked it away in a pocket, likely intending to throw it away somewhere out of Mike's reach. Mike didn't watch long and tried to keep his eyes off the paper - William was sure to keep going if it seemed like Mike cared too much about the application. "Henry brought this to your attention?" William added, the question trailing like an afterthought. 

"Yes," Mike answered. William hummed softly, then turned away from Mike and went back towards the kitchen. With a strange feeling of numbness in his extremities, Mike followed. He watched as William moved casually around the kitchen, and after a few seconds Mike realized his father was preparing the coffee pot. 

"Henry means well - he has always meant well," William continued once the coffee was brewing, "but be mindful and cautious of his help, Michael. Henry just doesn't really understand - not us, not the business. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I'd hate to see you led down it. I thought we could ride in to work together today. It's been quite awhile, after all - what do you think?"

The mental whiplash Mike experienced was almost dizzying. It distracted him, and when he didn't immediately respond, his father looked over at him. 

"Sorry," Mike said, half-blurting the word, "I'm still a little tired. Yeah, that sounds good. Great. Can I just have a little time to get ready?" William's response was little more than a nod, but it was answer enough. Mike turned and walked back down the hallway. He went through the usual hygiene motions, got himself ready for the day, and wasn't at all surprised when William declared it was time to go just when Mike was considering reaching for a coffee mug. He mourned the lost caffeine, but said nothing about it as he followed his father out of the apartment. 

* * *

When Mike pushed the door to Fazbear's open, Jeremy practically charged towards it. He was halfway through calling Mike's name with no small amount of alarm, when he spotted William and came skidding to a dead stop. For a long heartbeat, the three of them stood there in an awkward pause. 

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Afton!" Jeremy said, breaking the quiet with an almost squeaky break in his voice that made Mike grimace internally. William shut the door, then looked to the teen with a raised eyebrow. 

"Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald. Are you feeling alright? You look rather...disheveled." William wasn't wrong. Jeremy looked pale, his eyes were wide and flighty, and his hair was even a little ruffled. Mike so badly wanted to know what was wrong - but with William standing there, he couldn't even ask. With William around, Mike doubted he'd even get a chance to ask the animatronics. 

"Do I?" Jeremy asked, reaching up to touch his face. When he did, Mike could see the smallest of tremors in the man's fingers. "I'm sorry, that's gotta look really unprofessional. Honestly sir, I didn't sleep all that well yesterday, so I'm kind of running on fumes."

"Ah, well, did you have a quiet shift, at least? Any issues to report?" William asked. 

"No, no issues - it was a, uh, perfectly normal night. Long, maybe," Jeremy rubbed at the back of his head, and the laugh he released - meant, Mike was sure, to be joking - seemed strained, "when all you want to do is sleep, the hours drag on. But no, it was fine." 

"Glad to hear it. Off you go then and, Mr. Fitzgerald, do try and get more sleep today, hm?" William said, stepping aside so that Jeremy could leave. 

"I will!" Jeremy said, waving as he headed out, "have a nice day!" And then he was gone and, with the closing of the door behind him, an uncomfortable quiet filled the space between the two Afton's once more. 

"Something I should know?" William asked after a few seconds. He looked at Mike, who promptly shook his head. Then, he shrugged. 

"Not as far as I'm aware," Mike answered. It wasn't, in his mind, much of a lie. He didn't think there was any reason to inform William of his sentient robots, after all, and Mike truly didn't know why Jeremy was so bothered. He'd  _ like  _ to know, but so long as William was there, it would remain a mystery to them both. "He's not usually flustered like that," Mike added, "maybe he really didn't get enough sleep."

"Well, let me know if he seems the same when you arrive tomorrow. If there's a problem, I'd much prefer to see it solved before it gets worse."

"Of course, I will," Mike agreed. He wouldn't, actually, but there was no reason to say as much out loud. Apparently satisfied, William nodded and walked further into the restaurant. Mike followed, quickly getting lost in his own thoughts as he settled into the daily pattern. 

What, Mike wondered, had spooked Jeremy so badly? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know what a consistent upload schedule is, sorry. :x


	9. Ooze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike gets some answers - or, at least, he tries to. Really what he finds are a lot more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood and minor injury

Mike watched the girls from the corner of his eye as he wiped down the glass of the windows, careful to go around the two Missing posters hanging there. It was the very same evening as Jeremy's bizarre behavior and Henry had, once more, brought Charlie and Elizabeth to the restaurant. He'd then promptly vanished to the back, likely to talk to William. Like many young men, Mike had spent a lot of time assuming little girls were into tea parties and dolls and being nice. As he'd watched Elizabeth and Charlie grow, though, he'd quickly learned that wasn't always the case. Yes, both liked dolls and Elizabeth especially was fond of tea parties. However, they both also liked playing in the mud and, on occasion, wrestling each other like a pair of teenage boys. Which was what they were doing right in that moment - tussling around without a care in the world. Mike kept an eye to be sure their play didn't get too rough, either for them or their environment, but their roughhousing seemed well-controlled. 

A door slamming against the wall caught all of their attention, and all three froze where they were. Mike turned to look, even as Elizabeth all but scrambled away from Charlie, urging the other girl to get to her feet. The whole room seemed to hold its breath, and Mike felt the tight grasp of anxiety when it was Henry who all but came storming down the hallway. He was red-faced and so flustered that rather than speak, he simply signed a quick message to Charlie. Within a minute, they were both gone, leaving only Mike and Elizabeth standing in the room, both stunned at the sudden shift in atmosphere. 

The siblings exchanged a look, and Elizabeth hurried over to Mike's side. With a quick look down the hallway - William wasn't yet visible - Mike picked Elizabeth up, handed her the rag, and held her towards the window. If his movements were a little rushed, Elizabeth didn't mention it. 

"It's alright, Lizzy," Mike said, "here, help me clean the window. Yup, just like that." The mundane project was something Elizabeth would usually object to. That she didn't told Mike she was just as bothered as him. A minute or two later, approaching footfalls caught Mike's attention, and he glanced over his shoulder. William was finally joining them, and unlike Henry, he seemed completely unflustered. That wasn't a surprise - but the lack of ice in his eyes  _ was.  _ Despite whatever argument the two men had obviously had, William didn't seem bothered in the least. 

"Come along, Elizabeth. Time to head home," He said. The siblings exchanged a quick glance as Mike set the girl back on her feet and slipped the rag from her hand. At her uncertain look, he smiled lightly and crouched to give her a brief, but strong, hug. "I'll be bringing her with me, tomorrow," William added as Elizabeth let go of Mike and went to their father's side. "Likely every day for the foreseeable future, in fact. I'll require your help looking after her."

"Of course," Mike agreed, biting back the questions that he wanted to ask. Why wouldn't Elizabeth be staying with Henry, why had the two men fought, why was it that now William trusted Mike to help watch over Elizabeth when usually his father never missed a chance to insinuate Mike would get her killed just as surely as his brother. It wasn't the time for any of those, though - probably, there would  _ never _ be a time. Mike would simply do as asked until things changed again, and enjoy extra time with Elizabeth while he did. 

He only hoped he wasn't the cause of the argument. 

* * *

Mike wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find the next morning. It was, at least, blessedly William-free - further proving that William had  _ only  _ come the morning before due to some suspicion. Why he'd suspected anything, Mike wasn't sure, but such things failed to surprise him anymore. Whatever the case, Mike was happy to be on his own time again and, more importantly, to have the opportunity to talk to Jeremy about what had happened. 

He never felt good about arriving at Freddy's and not seeing Jeremy immediately, but it was especially concerning that morning, considering the day before. Mike's eyes quickly went to the stage, where he saw Toy Chica's eyes shift as well, glancing over at him in a way that was likely meant to be surreptitious. They looked at each other for a long second before Mike realized she was waiting for something. 

"It's just me," He said, and as if those were the magic words, the whole stage came to life. All three animatronics gave a couple of jerks of their limbs, turned in place a couple of times, and then started to make their ways off the stage. 

"Jer-bear!" Toy Chica called, and Mike winced at the way her voice crackled with the volume. "It's just Mikey! You can come out!" 

"I just want to make this clear," Toy Bonnie said, looking at Mike, "we didn't do it."

"Didn't do what?" Mike asked immediately, even as he looked down the hall. He had his answer shortly after - as soon as Jeremy was visible, Mike could see the way the teenager had his arm cradled to his chest. As he approached, Mike got a better look - his arm was wrapped in a sloppy slung made of old  _ curtain,  _ of all things, and what was now faded purple fabric was stained with something dark. 

"What happened?" Mike asked, hurrying to meet Jeremy. The teenager was pale, and even more tired-looking than the morning before. He flinched slightly when Mike clasped his shoulder, which had the young man ripping his hand back just as quickly. 

"I'm okay," Jeremy said, though the rough edge to his voice said otherwise, "it bled worse than it really was."

"How'd you end up bleeding at all?" Mike asked, wincing at the way his voice echoed loudly through the room. It didn't bother him long, though, as he whipped around to glare at the Toy animatronics behind him. At his accusatory look, the top joints of Toy Bonnie's ears pinned forward. 

"Hey! I already told you it wasn't us!" 

"It was Foxy," Jeremy added, pulling Mike's attention back to him. "He nearly got me - Toy Freddy got me out of the way before Foxy could do any real damage, but he did manage to snag me with his hook."

"Foxy attacked you?" Mike asked, "I'm - I'm confused. Those guys are so broken down…"

"Yeah, well, not that broken," Jeremy said. He glanced over towards the Toys, and something about the look they all shared made the goosebumps on Mike's arms rise. 

"What?" He asked, looking between them all. Jeremy gave him a glance, but for a second didn't respond - not until Toy Bonnie gave a slight nod. "What?" Mike asked again, feeling the frustrated growl in his voice. 

"How long do you think we have?" Jeremy asked in response. Taken aback, Mike glanced towards the clock, then gave a small shrug. 

"As much as half an hour, but nothing's guaranteed," Mike answered. Jeremy nodded, then looked over towards the animatronics. 

"Can you guys keep watch? Just like, I dunno, sing or something if anyone shows up."

"Sure can do!" Toy Freddy answered in his musical lilt. Toy Chica affirmed in unison, but Toy Bonnie shifted slightly on his feet. 

"Maybe one of us should come with you. You know, just in case they're still feeling…feisty."

"I thought you guys said they definitely can't move after six!" Jeremy said, throwing his good hand up. Immediately, he grimaced and brought it back down to cradle his injured arm. 

"They can't," Toy Bonnie agreed, "or, uh, they shouldn't be able to. Gotta tell ya though, I've never seen them this worked up. And you two are awfully squishy. If we're wrong…"

"If my father  _ does  _ show up and Jeremy is not only still here but one of you is out of place, there will be very little else worth worrying about, believe me," Mike said. 

"We'll be alright," Jeremy added. The flop-earred, narrowed eye look the rabbit gave them told them he wasn't convinced. Still, after a second he threw his arms up in exasperation. 

"Alright, fine. It'll be your sorry tails if anything happens," Toy Bonnie finally said as he turned and plodded his way back to the stage. Mike watched him go, a heavy pit opening in his gut. He moved to go after the rabbit, but before he'd even taken a step Jeremy grabbed him by the arm. 

"He'll get over it, he's just worried," Jeremy said, "it'll be fine. C'mon, we don't have a lot of time." Despite Jeremy's reassurance, Mike couldn't quite take his eyes from Toy Bonnie. Not until the rabbit glanced over and, with a raised eyebrow, used a hand to usher Mike on. Only then did he allow himself to be pulled away by Jeremy, even if he still felt slightly sick to his stomach. 

What Jeremy had to show him didn't help much with the sick feeling, but it did chase away Mike's preoccupation with Toy Bonnie's apparent displeasure. They went to the Parts and Services area, and it was only then that Mike realized that the old Freddy model was no longer lying on the ground. He, as it turned out, was the one they were looking for. He'd been relocated, and now was sitting propped against a wall in a far back corner. Jeremy and Mike approached until they were standing just in front of the bear. 

"Freddy? You in there?" Jeremy asked. When there was no response, he slowly lifted and stretched his foot out to gently nudge at the bear's stomach. Mike saw Jeremy visibly relax when there was still no response. "The night after the Toys showed me that they were alive," Jeremy continued as he moved closer to Freddy and crouched in front of him, "I found out these guys are too. They can't do anything until midnight hits, and when six comes around they get stuck in place again. In-between, though, they're just as animated as the toys. They're a little stiff, but over all friendly," Jeremy looked over his shoulder at Mike, then gestured. Uncertain, Mike approached and took up a spot next to the teen. 

"Or they were, until yesterday. Freddy came to the office, and I thought he just wanted to chat, but…but something was wrong. His eyes were dilated, the lenses so wide they looked black. He wouldn't listen to me. He would have…I think he would have killed me. But Toy Bonnie grabbed me and hid me until Freddy went away. After that, the other old ones would come, now and then. The Toys wouldn't let me get out of where they'd hidden me - but I don't think I would have bothered, anyway. None of these guys looked right, when they'd come." Jeremy took a breath and reached out to lay a soft finger on Freddy's abdomen. "Last night was the same. We weren't sure if it would be, but then Foxy surprised us - that's how I got cut."

"If they were friendly before," Mike said, "why'd they suddenly change? What went wrong?" 

"I don't know. I think the toys know  _ something _ , or at least suspect, but they won't say. But I noticed something, last night. Something on Freddy. I barely saw it in the light, but…hang on." Jeremy pulled his flashlight from his belt and flipped it on. He pointed it at Freddy and, as it illuminated the bear, the two boys inhaled a simultaneous breath. Jeremy didn't have to explain - Mike could see it. 

Something dark-brown stained Freddy's fur beneath his stomach, clearly having oozed from the margin between his stomach and hip piece. It wasn't fresh, but it didn't matter - Mike recognized it. It was no grease or old pizza sauce - the stains had been made from blood. 

"Step back," Mike said, not waiting for a response before all but shoving Jeremy back from the bear. Mike took up the space left over and centered himself in front of Freddy. With a quick glance up towards the bear's head - which stayed dark and inactive - Mike reached out to start unlatching the bear's chest piece. It was a decently quick process, and Mike felt a little proud of how much it turned out he knew. 

The pride was short-lived, though. When Mike slipped the chest piece away - grunting with the effort - the sight of Freddy's internals left little room for anything but grim concern. Mike had been expecting a body, if he were honest - he'd thought there'd be another mangled employee. But Freddy's internals were almost what they should be - just metal endoskeleton, dozens of wires and cords, and a little music box tucked into the corner. 

If only it weren't for the bloodstains.

They were more obvious on the metal - more of a reddish rust color than the deeper brown on his fur. There wasn't as much staining as Mike had expected - and the idea that someone may have tried to  _ clean  _ it shook him to his core. Wondering over a thousand different scenarios and scrambling for action, Mike did the only thing he could think to do. He picked up the chest piece, and put it back. He'd seen what he'd needed to see - and it'd given him more questions than answers. 

"Were there others, besides the guy before me?" Jeremy asked, startling Mike out of his thoughts. 

"Not that anyone ever told me," Mike said, finishing up the last latch with a heavy breath, "not that it means much. I'm only ever told things when my father thinks I need to know." Mike hadn't really meant to say it, and Jeremy didn't respond to it. The silence that fell between them was tense. 

"The kids," Jeremy finally said, voicing Mike's own thoughts out loud. Hearing them sent Mike's heart racing, and he jumped up to his feet. 

"Come on," Mike said, throwing out a hand towards Jeremy. He pulled the teen to his feet, then started a brisk walk away from the parts and Services room. There was someone who might know more, Mike thought - someone who might even tell him, even if the Toys apparently wanted to keep their own secrets. 

Mike had his hand on the hidden door to the safe room when there was a sudden, obnoxious jingling. He froze, and then looked to Jeremy. It'd been a small section of Toy Chica's usual song, which meant the two younger men weren't alone, any longer. In a panic, Fredbear completely forgotten, Mike grabbed Jeremy's hand and hurried them down the hall towards the office. 

"You tripped on your way out," Mike said quickly, quietly, as he ushered Jeremy into the desk chair and crouched in front of the teen. Mike reached out, and began to unwind the curtain around Jeremy's arm. "You caught yourself on a table and started bleeding. I, uh, I -" 

"You're helping me out," Jeremy added. Mike nodded his agreement and, with a swallow, Mike began to rewrap the curtain. He was only just finishing - caught in the act, just as he'd hoped - when footfalls approached and stopped just outside the office. 

"Everything alright back here?" William asked, and Mike could practically hear the eyebrow raised in the man's voice. 

"Good morning, Mr. Afton," Jeremy responded, and Mike found himself a little jealous of the control in the teen's voice. "Everything's okay, I just had a little spill. Mike's helping me with it."

"You realize that's curtain, Michael, don't you?" 

"It was bleeding a lot," Mike said, tightening up the makeshift wrapping and getting to his feet. He glanced towards his father, but at the obvious disdain in William's eyes, Mike skirted his eyes right by. He settled for looking at the monitor, instead. "I just grabbed what was close - I didn't want it to stain the floor."

A soft hum was the only response, and then William's attention shifted to Jeremy. "Is it deep, Mr. Fitzgerald?" 

"No sir," Jeremy answered, "I think I just caught it right, you know? It's pretty shallow, actually, just bleedy."

"Would you rather wrap it with some real bandage? Michael could fetch some from a first aid kit."

"Oh, no, that's okay," Jeremy said, getting to his feet, "this will work just fine, I'll clean it up more when I get home. Thank you, though, for the offer."

"Alright then. If you have any further issues with it, please do let us know. I wouldn't want it to fester."

"Of course, will do, Mr. Afton. Hey, Mike, I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?" 

"Yeah, sounds good. Have a good night, Jeremy," Mike answered. He looked towards the teen, and was impressed at the almost genuine smile Jeremy gave him in return. The moment was too quick, and then Jeremy had left the room. He left silence in his wake, although it was soon broken by the traveling sound of Elizabeth greeting Jeremy. In the midst of everything that'd happened that morning, Mike had forgotten that Elizabeth would be there. 

"I hope you can watch over your sister with more competence than you've shown for your new friend," William said, his eyes finding Mike once again, "Old curtain, really? I  _ do  _ make sure our first aid kits are stocked, you realize."

"I know. I'm sorry, I just…it was really bleeding. I panicked." 

"Well, see that you don't  _ panic  _ around Elizabeth. I don't have the time to watch her, Michael, and I certainly don't have the time to entertain her many questions and inane observations. I am attempting to count on you - don't make me regret it."

"I'll watch her, dad," Mike said, lifting his head with a small, bracing breath. He met William's eyes, and forced himself to look, no matter how badly he wanted to do anything but. "I promise." William's answer was a curt nod, which he'd barely finished with by the time he'd turned and left the room. As he watched William go, Mike wanted nothing more than to collapse into the chair. Not even seven in the morning, and he already felt so tired. There was still so much day to go. 

Answers to the what and how and  _ who  _ of what Mike and Jeremy had found would have to wait. It would have been difficult to get the chance to go to the safe room during the day in any case - with Elizabeth, there was no chance at all. Mike did his best to put it out of his mind, to no avail. Freddy and his blood stains were the only things he could think of all day. 


	10. NOT AN UPDATE - HIATUS NOTICE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a fic update - but an update about the fic. Apologies for the false alarm.

So, hey guys, it's been awhile. Reading some posts today made me realize, though, that you all really deserve some kind of official notice/comment/etc from me, so here I am. 

Catalyst is on a hiatus of an uncertain length. Since it's been months, that was probably obvious. The absolute truth of the matter is I lost my energy for it - I hit a sticking point, and it coincided with me sort of falling a little out of the Fandom as well as a few months of very low motivation/energy in general. For awhile, I wasn't writing at all. I've thankfully gotten some motivation back - but unfortunately, for a different Fandom in which I am currently very, very invested. Which leaves me no spoons for this. 

I'm keeping it up, though. We're due a new game in early 2021 and there's every possibility that resparks my fnaf interest and brings me back to this fic. Or, if nothing else, there will someday come a lull in my current obsession and maybe I'll have the energy to come back for this fic then.

But I really am sorry. It's been a long time since I've found myself abandoning a fic, and honestly it doesn't feel great. But I'd feel worse giving you all half-assed chapters just in the interest of finishing. Not to mention how much that'd sour writing for me in general. If you're unwilling to see if I ever get back to it, I totally understand - if you'd like, message me on Tumblr and I'd be happy to provide you a brief summary of where I was going with this. Or, if tumblr absolutely isn't an option, I can do so in the comments here.

I'm also really sorry for the fake notice - but this seemed the best way to get the word out for good.

Also, guys? Just thank you from the bottom of my heart for every view, every kudo, every comment - I can't describe to you how much all of those mean to me, no matter what happens here on out when it comes to this fic. I hope to be back with you all on this fic one day - but just know in the meantime, I appreciate each of you so, so much. 

-Pyro 


End file.
